Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

It’s a bright and sunny afternoon when the PR team for #2 Pro Hero Dynamight is asked to do the impossible: make him more likable to the public.

Kotaro almost quits on the spot. He spends a long moment standing at his desk, staring at all the pictures and miscellaneous other decorations he as acquired over the last six-or-so years that he has spent working with the PR department of the hero agency and considers whether he would be able to fit them all into one cardboard box or if it would take him two trips to get them all out to his car. He’s been given a lot of challenges in his time working in PR but before this moment, he’s never been given something he considers outright impossible.

It’s true that Katsuki Bakugo, known to the public as the pro hero Dynamight is #2 in the rankings, but it has nothing to do with his popularity and everything to do with how skilled of a hero he is. Nobody can deny that he’s talented, dedicated and hard-working. He’s practically run himself to the bone more than once and has put his life on the line to save the entire city more times than some pro heroes of the past ever did in their entire career and he’s only been a pro hero for a few years. And for those reasons— and those reasons alone— he ranks as high as he does. He never lets a villain escape, he plays semi-nicely with the other heroes— depending on who the other heroes are— and he keeps his collateral damage to a minimum. If he’s called to a villain attack, the civilians of the city feel safe and secure under his care. Which is a great thing, there’s no dismissing that.

But that’s about where the great things end for Katsuki Bakugo. He’s notorious for having a bad attitude, his vocabulary can be so vulgar sometimes that Kotaro has heard him use words that he didn’t even know were words before, and getting him to do any sort of public-interfacing was damn near impossible. He didn’t stick around after fights to check on the civilians, he didn’t do meet-and-greets, and last week he got reprimanded for yelling at an elderly lady who had gotten in his way and caused him to nearly lose the villain he had been chasing.

The videos of it had gone viral before he had even finished arresting the villain. By the time he had made it back to headquarters, the boss had already gotten at least three calls about it and PR had already been tasked with doing damage-control. For the majority of the time that Kotaro had been assigned to Bakugo’s team, damage-control had been the main thing that they did. It was becoming somewhat of a specialty of his at this point, as much as that wasn’t a particularly good thing to be able to admit. 

It was this very reprimand that had spurred the hero agency to take such a strong stance on changing his public appearance. 

Everyone had always known that it was bad, but he was consistently ranking high and continued to put out good work so it was something that everyone had agreed in one of those unspoken sort of ways to just sweep under the rug and ignore until it couldn’t be ignored anymore. This appeared to be the moment that it couldn’t be ignored anymore. 

And, really, Kotaro could find another job. Really, he could. He wasn’t sure what else he could do— after all the years he’d spent training for this job and then training at this job, he didn’t really have skills that suited him for something else, but he was willing to scrap his whole career and start over before he was willing to have the black mark that was Katsuki Bakugo’s public reputation looming over his head for all of eternity.

Because right now, he could still get out. But if he tried to get out after what was undoubtedly about to be the biggest failure of all time— well, nobody would take him them. What work would he have to show for himself? He would have to point to the flaming mess that was Bakugo’s reputation and say that he had been in charge of that and it had still turned out that way. He would have to say that he had a hand in that. And who would hire him after that? Surely nobody would take him then. But if he left now, before he had to admit that, before he had to take credit for what was going to become a huge disaster, there was still hope for him.

The longer he stared, the more he thought he could fit all of his items in one box.

It had taken the convincing of his other two teammates, Hanaku and Hiroto, to at least try and come up with an idea and give it an attempt instead of quitting before even beginning. They had stood next to him at his desk for no less than ten minutes, reminding him that they were a team with their words, pleading him not to leave them alone with their eyes. They had been through a lot together, the three of them, and Kotaro couldn’t let them down. Still, the idea of that cardboard box sounded really good. 

But he had agreed to at least try. And so that’s what they were doing— they were trying, desperately, sitting around their usual table, to come up with some idea that would give them even a semblance of a chance of success. They were trying to come up with something that Bakugo would even agree to and that was already a hard enough selling point.

“We can’t have him doing public appearances,” Kotaro points out and he watches Hanaku’s face fall as he shoots down her idea, just like he’s shot down every idea she’s had before this one. “He would never agree to that.”

“He’s not really in the position to agree or disagree,” She reminds him, reaching for her mug of tea and holding it between both of her hands. “This is being ordered by the president of the agency. It’s not something he can refuse.”

Kotaro hadn’t been there when Bakugo had been told about this change— he’d just received an email in his inbox first thing this morning, innocuously charging him with the single worst task of his entire career— but he can imagine that Bakugo hadn’t taken it particularly well. Bakugo didn’t often take criticisms of his behavior well, especially ones that he felt justified. And there was no doubt in Kotaro’s mind that he felt justified in yelling at that woman because the single most important thing in Bakugo’s life is catching villains and anyone who stands in his way deserves his wrath in his eyes, 

“I’ve seen him walk straight out of the president’s office before.” Hiroto pipes up, glancing around as if he’s sharing some secret, as if everyone hasn’t heard his shouting through nearly every level of this building.  “The president was in the middle of a sentence and he just stood up and marched right out. You can never be too sure.”

Kotaro is pretty sure that only happened once— once, not because the president laid down the law on him but because Izuku Midoriya— #1 Pro Hero Deku and the only person on the face of the Earth who can stand toe to toe with Bakugo, apparently— had apologized profusely to the president before marching out of there and practically dragging Bakugo back into the office by his ear like a petulant child. There’d been a lot of angry mumbling between the two of them and a few hollered threats from Bakugo, but Midoriya hadn’t let go for even a second and Bakugo hadn’t walked out of the second half of that conversation, whatever it had been about. 

“He may be a lot of things,” Hanaku shakes her head, “But he’s not dumb enough to send his whole career down in flames. Everyone knows being a hero is the only thing he’s ever wanted to do. If there’s anything he’ll swallow his pride for, it’s to keep his career.”

And while it may be hard to picture Katsuki Bakugo swallowing his pride for anything, Kotaro knows that Hanaku has a point. Anyone who has spent any amount of time with him— and PR certainly has, or has tried to at the very least— knows that being a hero is the most important thing to him. So if he were to ever swallow his pride, this is the thing he would swallow it for. It’s just a matter of finding the right tactic that not only gets him to agree, but makes him seem likable without changing too much of who he is. 

It’s a matter of— Kotaro’s mind snags on Hanaku’s statement, playing it back in his mind, a the first threads of an idea start to form in his mind.

“What we need,” Kotaro continues on, his brain following down a new train of thoughts. “Is a way to let the public get to know more about him. Because what do we know besides the fact that he’s always wanted to be a hero? Practically nothing. And the public knows even less about him than we do.”

It’s literally their job to know as much about him as possible so they can decide what to share with the public and what to keep from the public and even they don’t know a damn thing about the man. On one hand, it has made their job a little bit easier over the years— there’s no decision to be made about what to keep from the public when Bakugo chooses to keep everything from everyone all on his own. There’s never any loose ends to tie up, never any scandalous photos surfacing or rumors spreading. He keeps everything under such tight lock and key that the only damage control they’re ever doing is over his bad attitude. But it also makes it very hard for the public to connect with him and right now, with the public feeling alienated and frustrated with him, that’s what they need. They need to see him as a person, not just a hero. They need to know and understand him, to relate to him, to sympathize with him if that’s what it takes, Kotaro doesn’t care. They just need to feel something towards him other than distaste.

“You think that there has to be some humanity in there somewhere?” Hanaku teases, smiling as she finally takes a sip of the tea she’s been holding all this time. “We just need to find it and expose it.”

“I mean, he is human,’ Kotaro argues before sighing, his shoulders dropping as he leans back in his chair. “But I’m not exactly willing to end up hospitalized with burn wounds because I tried to be nosy when he didn’t want me to be.”

Because his idea, or the threads of it that they were just starting to weave together, could work. It was the basis of PR, going back to the very fundamentals. But things were fundamental for a reason— because they worked. And this would work, too, if Bakugo weren’t so private to everyone around him. The moment Kotaro tried to ask a single personal question, tried to push even a little bit harder for an answer to something, Bakugo would blow his ass to high hell and walk away without a second thought. They didn’t know anything about him because he didn’t slip up, so prying or spying seemed to be their two options and neither one came without a pre-signed death certificate. 

Except, there may be one other way—

“Well, that’s easy then.” Hiroto leans back in his own chair but he looks remarkably at ease as he addresses the other two, “If we need some more personal information on Bakugo, there’s one obvious place to go for that.”

The stack of papers that sits to Izuku’s left is so tall, he can barely see over it. It’s his own fault that it’s gotten to this point and he can’t deny that, but it doesn’t make it any easier for him to force himself to get through it. If he had his way, he’d ignore it for another two weeks and be out on the streets, working alongside his other pro heroes to help keep the city safe. But he knew when he took the job that paperwork was part of it, no matter how much he disliked it, and he was certainly pushing the limit of how long he could ge away with ignoring his before he had not only passed the deadline but left it completely in the dust.

Still, the sheet that he’d been staring at for the last five minutes was half blank, the pen clasped loosely in his hand, his brain wandering further and further away from what he was supposed to be writing with every passing second.

Really, at this point, the incidents that he was writing about were already done and completely handled, the cases closed. He didn’t feel like he really needed to write anything down when there wasn’t even anything to follow up on anymore, but he wasn’t one to break the rules. Much. Anymore. Or if he did break the rules, he at least did so strategically, and to some sort of gain, and this didn’t fall into either of those categories.

The door opens to his office and it’s the perfect distraction, something to allow Izuku to ignore his paperwork even longer, There’s already a smile on his lips at just the thought as he lifts his gaze only to find Katsuki standing in the doorway, regarding him. 

“Kacchan,” Izuku greets, his smile warming as he looks at Katsuki who hasn’t made a point to fully enter the room. “What are you doing here? I thought you were on patrol today?”

“Do you keep tabs on my schedule or something?” Katsuki asks, and when Izuku gestures to the calendar on his wall that has both of their schedules written onto it in color-coded ink, he simply snorts and mutters a fond, “fucking nerd.” 

Truthfully, most of the time their schedules lined up. It was a known fact that they worked best together and that every scene had a higher success rate when they both showed up to the fight. So more often than not, their schedules lined up perfectly— it had been one of the reasons they had chosen to go to the same agency after graduation. They had wanted to be able to continue working together, developing their teamwork and furthering their skills. And Izuku had wanted to keep spending time with Katsuki. After so many years of his life chasing after Katsuki, he had finally caught up to him and now he felt like he had so much time to make up for, so he wasn’t about to give up even a moment of it. 

But there were times like today where Izuku had procrastinated his paperwork past the point of no return and so they were forced to be separated for a day until he could catch back up again. Katsuki was better about his paperwork, cramming it in over his lunch break or getting a few pieces done every night before going home. Izuku admired his dedication— he had been that way back at UA too, so dedicated to his studying and always done with his homework well before everyone else. And it wasn’t that Izuku didn’t find the paperwork valuable it was just that he found it… tedious, and boring, and generally stupid and useless and okay, he just hated doing it and was usually too tired to think straight by the end of one of his shifts. 

“So, what are you doing here?” Izuku asks after a moment of silence when Katsuki doesn’t elaborate any further.

Katsuki hesitates for a long second in the doorway before finally stepping into the room and now that he’s all the way inside, Izuku can see that he’s holding something in his hand. The way he had been leaning on the doorframe had been hiding it before, blocking it behind the wall. Izuku recognizes the lunch box immediately and he can feel the confusion on his face as he watches Katsuki approach his desk.

“Here,” Katsuki says gruffly, no preamble or explanation as he extends the lunch box towards Izuku and his desk.

Izuku looks at it for a long moment, “You made me a lunch?”

Immediately, Katsuki pulls the lunchbox back towards himself, practically clutching it to his chest, “If you’re going to be a little shit about it, I’ll find someone else to give it to!”

“No!” Izuku shoots up from his chair immediately, bracing one hand on top of his desk as he leans over it, nearly knocking over his towering stack of papers in the process. His fingers almost graze the fabric encasing the lunchbox but it’s just too far away for him to get a grip on it. “I want it! I just wasn’t expecting it!”

Katsuki huffs and doesn’t relent, holding the lunchbox firm outside of Izuku’s reach. “I knew you had paperwork duty today,” He begins.

And Izuku can’t help but chime in, “Oh, are you keeping tabs on my schedule?”

He laughs through the dark glare he gets in response and retreats immediately as Katsuki reaches out to smack his outstretched hand in retaliation. He presses on, as if Izuku hadn’t interrupted him. “And I know you’re too stubborn and stupid to bother going out to get lunch. And we have patrol together tomorrow as long as your dumb ass gets all your shit done today. So I just though it would help keep you alive so you don’t slow me down tomorrow.”

“That’s really thoughtful, Kacchan.” Izuku replies after a moment, the hand that had been reaching for the lunchbox falling flat against his desk with his other hand. 

“Shut the fuck up,” Katsuki says immediately, but his cheeks are dusted the familiar shade of pink they turn whenever he’s done something nice and Izuku has acknowledged it.

They’d had a rough past, but they’d overcome that and managed to become best friends in the grand scheme of things and Izuku was thankful for that, more than anything else in his life— even his quirk— even if Katsuki still struggled a lot of the time to show any sort of emotion or affection. He did little things like this and then immediately took them back or threatened Izuku with the same certain death that he’d yet to make good on if Izuku ever told anyone. But still, it never failed to make Izuku’s heart feel warm, to grow three sizes in his chest as he felt the magnitude of the gesture, no matter how much Katsuki didn’t want him to.

Before Izuku can say anything else. Katsuki’s phone dings and he glances at it briefly before groaning. 

“Here,” He extends the lunchbox to Izuku with a little haste and Izuku knows immediately that it means he’s running late for patrol and that they’re not the only two how know that. Whoever had just sent him a message is obviously waiting for him. “Just eat it, okay? And don’t get used to this shit. You need to learn to take care of yourself eventually, dumbass. What would you be without me?”

“Useless.” Izuku answers easily and with a warm smile as he accepts the lunchbox happily.

“You’re still useless, even with me.” Katsuki quips back as he heads for the door.

“Dead, then.” Izuku replies and Katsuki barely manages to shoot him a sharp grin in acknowledgement before he disappears out the door without saying anything else to Izuku.

He doesn’t make it far, though, before Izuku hears him again, talking to someone in the hallway. “What the hell are you doing here?”

Izuku leans to the side in his seat, lunchbox still secure in his hands, trying to see who Katsuki’s talking to but they’re both out of his sight. When the other person responds, he doesn’t recognize the voice. “I was just stopping in to talk to Midoriya.”

“What the fuck for?” Katsuki asks, but even without being able to see him, Izuku can feel how rushed he is. “Nevermind, whatever. Just don’t waste his time, got it? He’s got enough shit to do.”

“Understood.” The other voice replies.

And then Izuku can hear Katsuki’s heavy footfalls hustle down the hallway. He insists on wearing heavy boots because they match his hero costume well, even though they do nothing to aide in his stealth. He has the ability to be stealthy if he really puts in the effort but it’s never been Katsuki’s style and that’s something Izuku can acknowledge. It’s something he has acknowledged in the numerous different entries in his hero notebooks that he’s made on Katsuki, the numerous different analyses he’s made on Katsuki’s fighting style. 

There’s a faint knock on Izuku’s already open door and he spares a moment to think that he’ll never actually get his paperwork done today which makes him feel both elated and horrified to know that it’ll just be hanging over his head for another day, and then he looks up. He recognizes the face of the man looking back at him, but only vaguely.

“Hello,” Izuku smiles and gestures for the man to enter his office.

The man does, and as he gets closer, Izuku starts to recognize him more. He’s never interacted much with him as he’s a part of Katsuki’s PR time, not of Izuku’s own, but it’s not uncommon for their teams to work together since he and Katsuki often work together. It’s also not uncommon for Izuku to listen to Katsuki complaining about his PR team and all the things they want him to do. 

“Midoriya, good afternoon. I’m sorry for interrupting your lunch. I can come back later if you want—“

“No, no. Please, Kotaro, sit down.” Izuku interrupts before Kotaro can say anything further.

Kotaro’s eyebrows raise so high, they nearly disappear behind the longer strands of hair that fall over his forehead. “You remember my name.” He says, almost wistfully. “No wonder the public loves you so much.”

Izuku laughs, a little nervously as Kotaro finally sits down. “Oh, well, I certainly don’t remember the name of everyone I meet in public.”

“No,” Kotaro agrees, “I imagine that would be nearly impossible. Are you sure I’m not interrupting your lunch?”

Izuku glances down at the lunchbox on his table, “I’m sure! Kacchan just dropped this off for me. But he knows that I’m busy today so he wouldn’t have made anything that needs to stay warm. It’ll be alright if it sits for a bit.”

If Izuku had thought that Kotaro had looked surprised before, it was nothing compared to how surprised he looked now.

“Bakugo made that?” He asks after a moment of silence, gesturing to the lunchbox as if there were some potential confusion as to what they could be talking about.

“Yeah!” Izuku can’t stop a wry smile. It’s not surprising that Kotaro would be surprised to find out that Katsuki can cook, it seems drastically out of character for the notoriously gruff and unapproachable man that Katsuki was. “Kacchan actually really enjoys cooking, and he’s really good at it. The food he makes is always delicious! He’s very skilled, too. He makes these super complicated dishes and he makes it look easy!”

The look of disbelief stays on Kotaro’s face, so Izuku reaches for the lunchbox and begins to unwrap the fabric surrounding it before opening it to show the lunch that’s inside. He tilts it so that Kotaro can get a better look at the intricately made bento. Kotaro leans forward in his seat to inspect it, eyes wide the entire time.

“I had no idea he could do something like that,” He finally says.

That earns a warm laugh out of Izuku. “Most people don’t. He has a lot of secret talents and a lot of softer sides. This is one of the ones he’s generally more willing to show. He’s let more people eat his cooking than he’s ever let people see his other soft sides.”

A strange look passes over Kotaro’s face and then suddenly he’s shooting up out of the chair he had just been occupying and rushing towards the door. “Thank you, Midoriya!”

“For—“ Izuku starts to ask, but Kotaro is already out the door and around the corner before he can even ask what?

It was a strange encounter and he’s not honestly sure why Kotaro had come into his office in the first place, but the delicious food sitting in front of him and the tall stack of papers that’s still looming over him tell him that he doesn’t have time to care about Kotaro or the weird encounter. Not until tomorrow, at least. So Izuku tries to shrug it off and tells himself with a stern conviction that he will double down on his paperwork as soon as he finishes eating the lunch that Katsuki had made for him.

For a long, long moment, the room is filled with nothing but complete, reverberating silence.

The moment stretches on for what feels like eternities and for a moment, Kotaro considers that perhaps he’s actually gone deaf.

And then Michael, the president of the hero agency, finally, finally speaks. “You want to have—?”

“A cooking show with Dynamight, yes.” Kotaro repeats, hoping he sounds more certain of his idea than he actually is.

It’s still highly likely that Bakugo will try to blast him straight off the face of the Earth when he hears about this— Midoriya had said that he didn’t really let people see his softer sides. But he had also said that cooking was the one soft side he was most willing to share and really, it was the only thing any of them had to work with right now, so Kotaro was going to take it and he was going to run with it— and then he was likely going to keep running because he would have a very angry #2 Pro Hero chasing him down with a string of creative curse words flying out of his mouth.

Michael regards him, but he doesn’t shut the idea down immediately and that’s definitely progress. “Elaborate.”

Kotaro looks over to Hanaku and Hiroto who are looking at him with equally shocked expressions. He hadn’t really given them any additional head’s up. In fact, he’d barely slurred the idea out to them before dragging them straight to Michael’s office and practically barging in the door before he even remembered to knock. If he was going to try, this was going to be his attempt. It was just the right amount of absolutely insane to work.

“Well, I figure it can be something that we stream so that way Dynamight doesn’t have to do any actual public interaction. But it’s a great way to let the public know more about him. If we give him free range to cook whatever he likes, he’s likely to share family recipes which will lead to stories of his childhood or where the recipes came from, plus it’s a relatable skill and a way for him to connect with the public. Everyone needs to cook.” Kotaro explains, and muc to his delight, he watches Michael nod along to each point he makes. 

It will take some figuring out— where to hold it, what time of day, can Dynamight take a day off of work to cook? Do they stream it live or is it the kind of thing they should film ahead of time and then air later? But those were questions for him, Hiroto and Hanaku to research if they got the green light from both Michael and Bakugo. Those were questions that he didn’t need to worry about right now because they didn’t matter unless he got approval of his idea. Those were the easier details, the things he could figure out with a few clicks of his keyboard. He didn’t have to stand in the middle of his boss’ office sweating to come to a conclusion about those, he could have that all answered before the day was over.

“Everyone needs to cook.” Michael repeats after another brief moment of silence and there seems to be some sort of decision in his expression. “I like it, it’s unexpected. It will show exactly the kind of new side we’re looking for to the public. We just need to verify that Dynamight is actually a good cook before we proceed any further with this plan.” Michael turns to look at Hiroto and Hanaku. “Will one of you call him in, please?”

Well, Kotaro tells himself as he tries to steel his spine, step one accomplished.

On to step two: don’t die.

In general, Katsuki hates patrol. He’s constantly looking for an excuse to get out of it and it’s significantly worse when he’s stuck doing it without shitty Deku at his side. The nerd might be annoying, but at least his constant chattering is some sort of company. And more than that, he does a good job of dealing with all the crowds of people that want to approach them so that Katsuki doesn’t have to. The worst Izuku ever does is drag him begrudgingly into a photo and, as much as Katsuki will curse him out under his breath until they’re in the earshot of the civilian who has asked for the photo, he doesn’t really mind all that much. 

So on the days when Izuku gets stuck doing something else, Katsuki will spend the entire time he’s stuck on patrol looking for an excuse to get off of it. His ideal way to get out of it is to get called into a fight, of course. That’s his ideal way to get out of any situation that he ever faces in his life— good or bad. He’ll take getting called into a fight over damn near anything else. But second to that, he really won’t be picky.

At least, he wouldn’t have thought he’d be picky about fifteen minutes ago, but now that he’s been called off patrol be told that he’s going to be forced into hosting a weekly cooking show, he’s suddenly changed his tune. Patrol looks great right now. Hell, he’ll pose for a million photos, shake hands, kiss baby heads— he doesn’t give a shit. Now he’ll do damn near anything to get out of this situation because it turns out there is something worse than patrol on his own and it’s this exact moment he finds himself living in.

“I’m gonna need you to repeat that for me one more time.” He says lowly, eyes fixated on Kotaro. He does know all of his PR team members by name mostly so that he can complain about them to Izuku without confusing Izuku by referring to them vaguely by some personality trait that is inconsequential and too unassuming to actually be any sort of identifier. He had done that in the beginning and then he’d never been able to actually get around to his complaining because Izuku would stop him every three words to try and clarify who they were talking about and then he would somehow always be confused on how they got onto that topic. “Because there’s no fucking way I heard you correctly,”

Michael, for all it’s worth, doesn’t look bothered by the sharp glare that Katsuki is throwing around the room like shards of glass. It’s how he became the president of the hero agency— he had to be able to wrangle a bunch of pro heroes and keep them in line and check their behavior and he couldn’t do that if he wilted underneath their attitudes or felt threatened by their quirks. It was why he seemed so confident giving this assignment to Katsuki, so certain that he would accept his fate without much of a fight. What a bold thing to think, after knowing Katsuki for all these years. Katsuki, of all people, never went down without a fight for anything and this was certainly not about to be any sort of exception.

His PR team, though, looked properly frightened and Kotaro looked like he might be physically incapable of repeating the words he’d just said to Katsuki, as if they had literally been chased straight off of his tongue. He was staring vaguely in Katsuki’s direction but was definitively not meeting Katsuki’s gaze, no matter how hard Katsuki stared directly at him.

“This will only benefit your career.” Michael answers when Kotaro doesn’t seem able to step up the way he needs to. Katsuki almost wants to smile wickedly at the knowledge that he’s scared Kotaro into silence. “Your popularity will increase and you’ll gain an entirely new fanbase.”

“I don’t need any fanbase.” Katsuki spits, but this is when he knows that he’s starting to lose. He and Michael have had this argument more than once in the years that Katsuki has been working at his agency and every time they have, it’s ended up with Michael getting his way in the end. “I didn’t become a hero so people would post my face on their walls or some creepy shit. I became a hero to catch villains and I can’t do that if I’m too busy playing house and making soup!”

Michael, infuriatingly, looks bemused. “Well, you’ll have free reign of the menu so you’re welcome to make more than just soup—“

“You know what I mean, you bastard.” Katsuki spits and his PR team seems to take in a collective sharp gasp at the fact that he would say such a brash and rude thing to the president directly.

Of course, Michael doesn’t even bat an eye. He’s even more of a bastard than Katsuki accused him to be.

“Your options are limited. Either you agree to this cooking show in an attempt to repair your public reputation or you’re put on leave for a currently undetermined amount of time.” Michael reclines in his chair and levels Katsuki a look that comes with the same levels of intensity that Katsuki’s own has been giving off since he walked into this room ten minutes ago. 

In the time that Katsuki has been a pro hero— and before that, really, even back when he was a student at UA— he’s dealt with his fair share of bureaucratic bullshit but this was taking the cake. All he’d done was ask that old woman if it was possible for her to move her old ass any slower— a valid question, really, because Katsuki didn’t think he’d ever seen someone move that slow before— and when she’d gotten offended instead of understanding his point, he’d told her to find the fuck out because he had places to be and she was getting in the way of him being there. And sure, it wasn’t his best move, he could admit that. But it also wasn’t the first time he’d done something like that, so he wasn’t sure why he was suddenly being punished for something that wasn’t a new behavior.

“Where did you even come up with this god awful idea, anyways?” Katsuki asks instead of addressing Michael’s statement. He refuses to give the bastard the pleasure of bowing down to his ultimatum that easily. 

That question seems to give Kotaro back the courage to talk and he looks pleased for a moment, like Katsuki asked him something he actually knows the answer to. “I saw the lunchbox you made Midoriya—“

Katsuki should have known.

He should have fucking known that Izuku would somehow be involved in this. 

Because there wasn’t anyone else that really knew that Katsuki could could, let alone that he liked to. Back at UA he had cooked a few times so some of the other pro heroes knew that he was decent at it, but certainly not enough to think of him as anything above ordinary or that his skills were beyond that to just get him by. And even if any of them remembered his skills as better than what they were in high school, it wasn’t like any of them were loitering around his agency’s headquarters just waiting for a moment to gossip about his cooking skills.

But he had seen Kotaro outside of Izuku’s office earlier today, right after he’d dropped the lunchbox off. He’d though ti was suspicious then since Kotaro was a member of his PR team and not Izuku’s, but he’d blown it off since his and Izuku’s PR teams had worked together on things in the past. Now he finds himself regretting it, wishing he had pressed for more answers despite the fact that he had already been late for patrol. Now he wishes he had dragged Kotaro out of there himself, insisted that the damn nerd had too much paperwork to do— something that would’ve prevented the two of them from ever talking and leading to this.

“Should’ve know it would’ve been fucking Deku.” Katsuki mumbles under his breath. 

“Well, I don’t think Midoriya has any idea!” Kotaro rushes to explain, coming immediately to Izuku’s defense. “He was just telling me how good you are at cooking and how delicious everything you make is and I sort of ran out of there as soon as I got the idea.”

“And if you cooking is good enough for the #1 Pro Hero, it must be good enough for the rest of the world.” Michael adds in. 

It’s not wrong— his cooking is fucking excellent. It’s good enough for the rest of the world and it’s definitely good enough for Izuku, the damn mooch is constantly eating as much of it as he can get his hands on. He practically never has any food in his own house and instead shows up at Katsuki’s door, exhausted and starving most days of the week. Katsuki has started to make two servings of everything he cooks out of habit at this point because he know that Izuku will always eat—

“Okay,” Katsuki meets Michael’s gaze head on finally and knows he’s about to hate every word out of his own mouth, But he’s been given an ultimatum and as much as he fucking hates it, he has no actual choice here. Michael has twisted his arm and everyone in this room knows it. “I’ll do the stupid fucking cooking show on one condition.”

“Name it.” Michael leans forward in his chair, his gaze unwavering, clearly interested in what Katsuki’s demand could possibly be.

“Deku does it with me.”

For a moment, Katsuki thinks he can see all the jaws in the room drop to the floor.

“Can Midoriya even cook?” Kotaro asks.

“Hell no.” Katsuki answers immediately. “Not like me. But he can eat. And he was there, wasn’t he? When I yelled at that old woman. He was there and he didn’t do anything to stop me. Plus he inspired this whole cooking idea. So I think it’s only right that he’s part of it. I cook, he eats.”

There’s an unreadable expression in Michael’s gaze as he stares back at Katsuki, hands clasped on top of his desk as he clearly weighs out his options here. The biggest problem that Katsuki sees with this idea is that it would mean taking the top two heroes off of the streets at the same time, but he figures that’s something that can be worked out. They do get days off, after all. And clearly this is still a brainchild that’s in the development stages so whatever wrinkles are being presented now can be ironed out before the whole thing is executed. 

“Fine.” Michael agrees after a moment. “You have a deal. For a minimum of six weeks, you two will make one cooking video per week. I’ll have your two teams meet and get to work on the logistics of it and we’ll go from there,”

“Fine.” Katsuki agrees gruffly, even though he hates it. 

Six weeks of cooking videos won’t be the end of the world, he tells himself. He cooks himself and Izuku dinner damn near every night anyways, now it’s just going to be recorded. It’ll be an inconvenience, absolutely, but it’s not like he’s being forced to learn some brand new skill or something. Plus, it was going to give him the perfect opportunity to get back at the goddamn nerd for putting him in this position in the first place. He was already mentally running through every spicy recipe that Izuku hated. 

“And Katsuki,” Michael says as Katsuki starts to turn and reach for the door handle, ready to dismiss himself because this conversation has been a train wreck since the beginning. “The whole point of this is to let the public get to know you. You don’t get to use Izuku has a human shield here, you have to open up.”

He hadn’t been planning on using izuku as a human shield, just on getting some plain old revenge on him, but now that Michael had put the idea in his head, it didn’t sound too bad.

Chapter Text

It’s too early for this.

That’s the first thought Izuku has as he blinks blearily at his phone screen, trying to read the text that’s there for at least the third time in hopes that he comprehends even half of the words written there this time. It had taken all of his energy and then some to finish all of his paperwork yesterday and by the time he finally left the office, he was dead on his feet and completely mentally drained. He’d barely even managed to change before collapsing into bed and internally cursing himself for the fact that he was setting his alarm for a mere four hours later. 

Still, it wasn’t the first time that he’d had to force himself to work on so few hours of sleep and he was certain that it wouldn’t be the last. But usually when he pulled stunts like these, it was in situations like today— where he had patrol the next day and would be afforded a few hours to slowly wake up and get back into the groove of things.

Katsuki would rib him for being useless for the number one hero, but then he’d buy Izuku his favorite coffee anyways and tsk if Izuku dared even consider thanking him for it. 

That was how he had expected today to go, as well. There was comfort in a routine like the one that he and Katsuki had built, reliability in it. It was only because he knew that he was on patrol with Katsuki today that he had pushed himself to finish every last piece of paperwork in that precarious stack that had been haunting him for days on end, because he knew he’d be able to fall into the warm familiarity of their usual morning routine, with Katsuki talking quietly at his side or reveling in the companionable silence until Izuku had pulled his energy levels up to normal. 

And it’s because he had been relying on this that he’s disappointed to finally manage to read the text on his phone— the one from Michael that’s asking him to meet at Michael’s office first thing this morning. 

When Izuku and Katsuki have patrol together— which, on average, is two days a week, unless something else is going on that requires their attention— they always meet in front of the coffee shop that’s halfway between their flats. More often than not, Katsuki knows what Izuku had been up to the night before and has one of Izuku’s two usual orders in his hands and waiting by the time Izuku dashes up, waving an arm overhead in greeting and apologizing for being a few minutes late as if this wasn’t the ten-thousandth time they’d done this exact thing, the ten-thousandth time he’d been late, promising that he wouldn’t do it again even though they both knew that he would. Usually, Katsuki would know what he had been up to, which meant that he would order a drink depending on how much caffeine he assumed Izuku needed to get the day started. 

With the disappointment of knowing that Katsuki’s  care regime for him is already ruined, Izuku drags his still half-dead self out of bed and goes through the motions of getting ready. The majority of his morning routine is performed completely on autopilot and it’s not the first time he’s been thankful for the muscle memory of a completely ingrained routine. By the time he’s finished, dressed in his hero outfit, and heading out the door, he would consider himself about half alive, which is better than he was expecting this early in the morning, and with the pressure of meeting with the agency president hanging over his head. 

Izuku tries to stretch his shoulders as he heads out the front door of his complex, hoping it will help wake him up a little bit further, and he’s so focused on that thought that he nearly runs straight into Katsuki who is standing just outside the doors, waiting.

“Watch where you’re going, Deku.” Katsuki barks, but even for this early in the morning, there’s no actual bite behind it. “I know your ass isn’t awake yet, but what if I had been a civilian?”

Izuku perks up immediately, a smile catching the edges of his lips to find Katsuki waiting there for him. “Since when do you care about how I treat civilians?”

“Since I got my ass chewed out for being mean to that old lady.” Katsuki answers gruffly, jaw clenched. 

Izuku knows that Katsuki doesn’t actually care, no matter what Michael said to him, but his answer finally filters through the fog of Izuku’s barely awake brain and a few things start suddenly clicking into place that he hadn’t pieced together yet. 

“That’s why he’s making me come to his office, isn’t it?” Izuku asks, his shoulders slumping as he realizes exactly what he’s going to be walking into. “So he can yell at me, too.”

“He’s making us come to his office,” Katsuki corrects, “But it’s not to chew our asses out.”

“It’s not?” Izuku perks up a little, turning to look at Katsuki. 

Katsuki, too, is dressed in his hero outfit, but at the present moment his arms are devoid of his usual gauntlets, leaving the strong lines of his forearms visible for Izuku if he were to choose to look. The sun is barely above the horizon and it catches on the ends of Katsuki’s hair, making his hair glow more golden than blond. Katsuki, as always, looks wide awake and ready to face the day. He was likely in bed, asleep, by the time Izuku even left the office yesterday and he was no doubt standing here with significantly more than four hours of sleep under his belt.

The morning always looked good on Katsuki— much better than it ever looked on Izuku. He wore the golden hues of the sunrise well, they complimented his natural tones, and he always looked more at ease in the morning. There was less of a stiff line to his shoulders, a softer set to his jaw. He looked like the world agreed with him more in the morning— or maybe he agreed with the world more. Either way, it was always when he looked the most comfortable, but also the most at ease. He was softer in the mornings, even if it was only marginally, and Izuku knew it was something that only he was ever privileged to see, and he certainly didn’t ever take it for granted. 

“No,” Katsuki snaps Izuku out of his thoughts and Izuku glances back down to his eyes, realizing belatedly that he’d been caught staring at the golden halo of the sun behind his hair. “It’s much worse.”

That makes Izuku’s heart drop to his feet. “Worse?” He echoes, a frown replacing the smile that had stayed on his lips since he’d seen Katsuki waiting for him. “What could be worse?”

“Take your damn coffee,” Katsuki extends a hand into the space between them, and Izuku realizes for the first time that Katsuki’s been clutching a disposable cup in each hand this entire time. “And let’s go and find out.”

Izuku takes his cup with a mumbled thank you, clutching it close to his chest and enjoying the warmth of it against the early morning chill as they take off together, falling in step with each other while they walk. “But you already know.” Izuku points out after a moment. “So why can’t you just tell me?”

Instead of answering his question, Katsuki just glances at him with a sharp smile and Izuku wonders what, exactly, he has to do with this entire situation and why, exactly, Katsuki has such a sadistic twist to the corner of his lips.

It’s true that he had been there when Katsuki had yelled at that woman, and it’s true that he hadn’t done anything to stop Katsuki or interfere with the moment, but there was a good reason for that. They had been on a time crunch, chasing a villain that they couldn’t afford to let get away, and the woman really was impeding their ability to do their job. Plus, Izuku had dragged Katsuki back afterwards and forced him to apologize, too. So really, there wasn’t any reason that Michael should be yelling at either of them because they had managed to apprehend the villain and they’d gone back and made things right without even being told to. It was as good of a situation as it could’ve been, given the circumstances and Katsuki’s usual attitude. 

But, if there’s one thing Izuku knows, it’s that ignoring a request— or demand, more accurately— from Michael was something that just created more trouble. So he shut his mouth and walked quietly alongside Katsuki, sipping at his coffee and trying not to ponder too hard on what could be waiting for him. 

The walk to their agency from his flat wasn’t even that far, all he had to do was keep his brain quiet for a few more minutes. And he managed to, for the most part, forcing any questions that rose to the tip of his tongue back to his throat so he could swallow them down again. 

Katsuki glanced at him a few times, clearly aware of Izuku’s struggles and at least a little bemused, but he didn’t say anything else, he just kept the same ambiguous look on his face.

By the time they made it to headquarters, Izuku had drunk at least half of his coffee and come up with no less than ten potential scenarios for what could possibly be waiting for them on the other side of Michael’s door.

Michael, for all the time that he had been the head of their hero agency, was notoriously a man of few words. He got to the point quickly and directly and didn’t spend time mincing words or explaining things that should be obvious. It had taken Izuku some time getting used to, constantly worried in the beginning that Michael was being curt with him because he was upset, but by now he’s grown accustomed to it and has just accepted it as part of Michael’s personality. Outside of that, though, he was actually a really nice guy, and he nodded at them in acknowledgement as they filed through his door and into his office.

He was seated comfortably behind his desk, his own cup of coffee steaming on the desktop as he glanced around the room. Izuku followed Katsuki in, surprised to find that there was more than just the three of them in the room. 

Kotaro stood along the far wall, hands clasped behind his back as he stared steadfastly at his feet, refusing to glance up as Katsuki and Izuku entered. And the glare that Katsuki sent his way gave Izuku a hint as to why Kotaro was acting like his feet were the most interesting thing he’d ever seen in his life.

“Good morning.” Izuku says to the room as a whole when nobody moves to break the awkward silence that has managed to squeeze into every other available space in the room. 

All the casual ease that Katsuki had during their walk over is gone and suddenly, when Izuku glances at him, he sees the familiar rigid set to Katsuki’s shoulders, the way he’s clearly clenching his jaw. Katsuki, too, refuses to look directly at anyone in the room, instead staring determinedly at the painting that was hung behind Michael.

Michael, to his credit, seemed entirely unfettered by the sheer amount of awkward discomfort that had just invaded his office first thing in the morning. “Good morning, Deku, Dynamight. Thank you for joining me before you head out on patrol.”

“Of course,” Izuku replies politely before jabbing Katsuki in the ribs with his elbow. Katsuki makes a noise of acknowledgement but continues to stare at the painting on the opposite wall, no actual words leaving his lips. With a sigh, Izuku glances back at Michael, unsurprised to find him completely unbothered by Katsuki’s refusal to participate in civil conversation. “What’s going on?”

That, at least, gets a small reaction out of Michael. His eyebrows raise as he turns to look at Katsuki who has now crossed his arms over his chest and resolved to stare at the wall to his right, the complete opposite direction of the other three people in the room. “Dynamight hasn’t told you?”

“No,” Izuku answers, a thread of unease starting to form in his gut. “He said I’d find out once we got here.”

There’s a long moment of silence where Michael seems to appraise Katsuki. But, whatever assessment he comes to after staring at Katsuki’s profile, he doesn’t say. Instead, he just turns back to Izuku, answering his question in the same direct manner that he’s known for. “Dynamight will be hosting a weekly cooking show.”

In the immediate seconds after those words leave Michael’s mouth, Izuku is absolutely certain that this is just the most realistic dream he’s ever had in his life. He’s certain— completely and utterly convinced that the only option is that he’s still lying comfortable and warm in his bed, just on the edge of consciousness as his mind makes up what can only be described as the most ridiculous situation he’s ever heard. But Michael doesn’t take those words back, no matter how hard Izuku stares at him, and he considers pinching himself just to verify.

“I’m sorry—“ Izuku turns to look at Katsuki, the question tumbling off his tongue meant for Katsuki and Katsuki alone, “ What? ”

“This is your damn fault!” Katsuki finally speaks, rounding on Izuku. And now Izuku sees why Katsuki wanted him to wait until they got here to tell him anything about what was going on. If Katsuki had said that he was going to be hosting a cooking show on their walk into the office, Izuku would have laughed in his face and completely blown it off. But now that he’s standing here, staring back at Izuku with all the accusation in the world in his eyes and Michael three feet away and not disagreeing, Izuku has no choice but to believe the impossible. 

“If you hadn’t been bragging about my cooking yesterday to that asshole—“ he thrusts a finger in the general direction of Kotaro who looks like he wishes he could shrivel up and die in this moment, “I wouldn’t be forced into doing this!”

Izuku looks between Kotaro, Katsuki, and Michael, but the gears in his head don’t seem to be turning the way they usually do and no matter how hard he tries, he can’t get his brain to latch onto what he’s being told.

“A cooking show?” He repeats in disbelief, waving a hand in the air in front of him as if he could possibly dispel the confusion that’s swirling around him. “How— what?”

“Are you going to say something helpful?” Katsuki growls, “Or just keep repeating the same stupid question?”

“Same question.” Izuku answers immediately and without any sort of hesitation. “Definitely same question.”

Katsuki rolls his eyes with a scoff, but Michael lets out a genuine huff of a laugh in response. 

It’s probably the first time that Izuku has ever heard Michael laugh and judging by the way both Katsuki and Kotaro whip their heads around at the sound, it’s the first time they’ve heard it, too. It’s a nice sound, and it softens his general aloof attitude, but it also serves to add more confusion to the situation for Izuku. 

“I’m so glad he requested that you join in.” Michael says after a moment. “You two have always had an interesting dynamic.”

“He— I’m sorry—“ Izuku starts to say.

Only for Katsuki to reach out and whack him on the arm. “Don’t say what again.”

“But I don’t understand!” Izuku protests immediately, glancing around at each person in the room. “I’m gonna need someone to break this down for me.”

In the end, it’s Kotaro who is tasked with explaining the whole idea to Midoriya. 

He tries his best to avoid it, to put the burden back on Michael, but Michael insists that it was his brilliant idea, so he should be the one to explain it. Kotaro feels less and less brilliant with each passing second, has felt that way ever since the moment he had to present the idea to Bakugo last night and realized that his death was going to be a lot more untimely than he had first anticipated. Working with heroes had always put him at a slightly increased risk of dying young, even if he worked in what was considered the “safe” side of the hero industry. But he had officially crossed the line by making a personal enemy of the number two hero and really, there was no coming back from that.

Truthfully, with Bakugo as his enemy now, it didn’t really matter what Kotaro did, his death was now waiting around every corner from him. But there was still some sense of self preservation that made him tremble at the idea of digging his grave any faster. But an order from Michael was an order from Michael and he knew that he couldn’t refuse or else he’d have an enemy of the number two hero and the president of the hero agency and at that point, his grave would already be completely dug. So, he takes a deep breath and he dives on into his explanation, cursing himself for his “brilliant” idea with each word that comes out of his mouth.

The entire time he talks, Midoriya’s eyes are as wide as saucers, focused on him as if he’s waiting for Kotaro to say that he’s just joking and they’ve all planned this as an elaborate practical joke on him. What Midoriya surely doesn’t know is how badly Kotaro wishes that he could say exactly that— that he could tell all of them that this was a prank and he had come up with some other idea to make the public like Bakugo more, one that wouldn’t have the room filled with so much tension. He can’t, of course, so instead Kotaro just stares at the mask that Midoriya has hanging around his neck while he explains, afraid to make direct eye contact with either hero.

He’s fairly certain that Midoriya won’t kill him, but Bakugo has felt murderous since the moment they walked into the room and that feeling seemed to only increase as Kotaro was forced to expand upon his idea and explain some of the finer details that he’d been instructed to spend the entire night hashing out. It was as if Bakugo’s rage was another living entity, standing in the room with the rest of them. If it were, it would likely be right over Kotaro’s shoulder, perhaps with one dark, tendril-y hand creeping closer and closer towards his neck with each word he spoke.

“We were thinking that each week you would cook something different.” He explains, trying with every ounce of determination he has in him to commit every single tiny detail of Midoriya’s mask to memory. “It would be entirely up to your discretion what you wanted to cook, of course. As long as you let us know a couple days beforehand, we would get you the appropriate ingredients. We’re still debating whether or not to stream the cooking live. Our current thinking is that we will record the first few episodes and, if it goes well, we will progress to streaming them live in the future to include more engagement with the community.”

At this point. Michael finally has something to say and it’s the first time someone other than Kotaro has spoken. It gives Kotaro a chance to finally breathe when all the eyes in the room shift off of him. Even the tendril-y fingers of Bakugo’s anger seem to shift towards Michael for a moment, too. “This is intended to be an instructional cooking show, though. So we expect you to provide a recipe and to explain what you’re cooking and how to make it. I don’t want to just film you standing in a kitchen doing things without anyone knowing what you’re doing.”

“I know how to teach people to cook.” Bakugo barks with a lot of confidence that sounds like he’s speaking from experience. Michael doesn’t ask and Kotaro values his life too much to dare even acknowledge it. “I’m a great teacher.”

There’s a moment where Midoriya glances over at Bakugo, the edge of a smile on his lips and Bakugo returns the look, rolling his eyes in response. Kotaro won’t even pretend to know what just happened, but it’s clear that they had some sort of silent conversation between the two of them. 

“Right,” He says after the momentary lapse of silence because he would like to get this over with as quickly as possible. “Well, I will also need a written version of every recipe to put in the description of each video, so when you send me the list of all the ingredients, I would appreciate it if you also sent me a full, written recipe.”

Bakugo huffs, his jaw clenching and unclenching before he gruffly replies. “Fine.”

“Before we continue,” Midoriya interjects, “How did I get involved in this? I don’t cook.”

“Oh,” Kotaro says, and then he glances at both Michael and Bakugo, because that does not feel like an answer he should be the one to give.

Luckily for him, Michael has no problem answering the question. “Dynamight’s stipulation was that he would only do this if you did it with him.”

Midoriya turns his questioning gaze up to Bakugo next to him, the words he wanted to ask written plainly across his face. Bakugo doesn’t look back at him this time, but his lips turn down in a clear frown.

“It’s your damn fault that I”m doing this.” He repeats his statement from earlier. “So you bet your ass that you’re doing this with me.”

“I didn’t tell him to make you do a cooking show!” Midoriya protests. “I didn’t even know he was working on a project like this!”

“Still, this stupid idea came from you, so now I’m dragging you into it, too.” Bakugo replies with absolute finality.

Midoriya stares at him for a moment longer before sighing, his shoulders slumping. Kotaro expects him to be upset, or put out somehow, but he doesn’t seem to be. In fact, there’s a fond smile on the edges of his lips and maybe even a little amusement in his eyes as he finally glances away from Bakugo, shaking his head a little as he regards Kotaro and Michael again, letting the threads of his conversation with Bakugo drop. Kotaro gets the impression that they’ll talk about it more later, but Midoriya seems completely at ease with the idea as he returns back to the explanation that Kotaro had been giving before.

“Where will he be cooking?” Midoriya asks.

Kotaro has always been a big fan of Midoriya. It’s very easy to see why he’s the number one hero. On top of being very successful in battles and minimizing his collateral damage— most of the time, anyways— he’s also very personable and very friendly. More often than not, Midoriya can be found asking for signatures from the other pro heroes and he’s been caught multiple times getting flustered when people want his autograph. When he meets fans more than once, he tends to remember their names and he tries very hard to commit things the civilians tell him to memory so he can bring it up when he runs into them again. He remembered Kotaro’s name after meeting him once and always smiled and greeted him if they crossed paths in the building— or even on the streets, though that was rare. 

Midoriya was notoriously a kind person to those around him, but at this moment, Kotaro kind of hated him.

“Well, we were thinking—“ He didn’t want to answer that question. He had been hoping, desperately and fruitlessly, apparently, that he would be able to skirt around the topic during this conversation and sneak this piece of information into a follow up email that he would send out so he wouldn’t have to directly face anyone when they found out the current plan. “That it would be a good idea to host it inside Bakugo’s own kitchen.”

Immediately, before the words even finish coming out of his mouth, Kotaro watches Midoriya’s hand fly to Bakugo’s arm, gripping his forearm as if he were holding Bakugo back. He also watches Bakugo go very, very still under Midoriya’s touch.

“Would you like to fucking repeat that?” Bakugo asks, each word slow, deliberate, a threat.

But Midoriya cuts in, coming immediately to Kotaro’s rescue, “I get it! The whole idea is to let the public know more about him, right? So letting them see little bits of his personal life like the inside of his kitchen would warm them up to him more than putting him in some cold, stainless-steel commercial kitchen.”

“Exactly!” Kotaro can’t stop himself from pointing a finger in Midoriya’s direction in relief. “And I also thought he might just be more comfortable in his own kitchen.”

“See, Kacchan?” Midoriya turns to look at Bakugo, his hand still firm against Bakugo’s forearm. Bakugo turns to glance back at Midoriya in acknowledgement of him. “It’s going to be better for you to do it in your own kitchen! Kotaro was being considerate of your comfort!”

Kotaro swallows as Midoriya praises him and hopes that it doesn’t backfire against him, that Bakugo doesn’t somehow take it the wrong way. 

Bakugo considers him for a long moment, his gaze intense. Kotaro finds that he, once again, can’t bring himself to meet the hero’s eyes directly, and instead focuses on the point of connection between Midoriya and Bakugo and wonders what it would be like to be so fearless around Bakugo, to be so comfortable reaching out to him, standing up to him. For as long as everyone at the hero agency has known them, it has always been that way— Midoriya has been entirely fearless of Bakugo. In fact, a lot of people in the agency refer to Midoriya as a Bakugo tamer, the one person who can stand in front of him when he’s in the most foul of moods and talk him off of the ledge without any difficulty at all. He’s the only one who can smile at Bakugo and get nothing worse than an eye roll in return. Kotaro can’t even imagine what that would be like. 

Michael had been spot on when he’d said that they had an interesting dynamic. 

“Fine.” Bakugo finally concedes, but he’s clearly unhappy about the entire situation. “It can be in my apartment. But it’s only because I already have all the best damn cookware there is. But —“ He glances pointedly at both Kotaro and Michael, “whatever lighting and shit has to be put up for this isn’t staying up in between episodes. I still live there.”

“That’s fair.” Michael agrees easily. “We’ll have the crew come set it up an hour or two before each episode, and then they'll take it down after recording, leaving everything exactly as it was before, that’s not an issue.”

Bakugo frowns,  but doesn’t protest. Midoriya smiles, removing his hand from Bakugo’s arm, clearly the only one in the room pleased with the outcome of this whole situation. Kotaro, really, is just pleased that he’s still standing and hasn't gotten blown to bits yet. This is longer than he expected to live through this conversation so he’s mostly just impressed. But the feeling that he’s living on borrowed time is starting to creep up on him, so he wants to wrap the conversation up and end it as soon as possible.

“Great, so the only other piece of information I have to go over,” He says after clearing his throat, realizing with a little bit of surprise and a little bit of fear that he’s not wilting as much under the weight of everyone’s stares. “Is that we were thinking of doing these episodes on Fridays. That way, if people don’t tune in, they can watch the episodes over the weekend. Statistically, less people work over the weekend, so it’s easier for them to watch. Now, because we’re considering live streaming them later, I think we should just film them all on Friday to make it a habit.”

“Won’t that force the time to change?” Midoriya asks. 

That’s another thing the public generally loves about him— he’s sharp as a tack. He picks up on everything, which makes him wildly successful as a strategist and is also the reason he’s so good at remembering the things the public tells him. He always tries to downplay it whenever it’s mentioned, but it really is such a fundamental part of him that he can’t hide it, and it’s on full display right now.

“A little, yes.” Kotaro answers. “Either we would change the air time for the episodes or we would have you two cooking later in the evening once you started live-streaming, whichever would be easier. I don’t anticipate it would have to be much more than an hour difference, though,” He explains, “because if you’re going to livestream, there will be no editing at all, so we’re going to try and edit the initial videos as little as possible. We just want to do a few that are taped and edited so that you guys can get a feel for what it’s like and get the flow of things. But we anticipate being able to edit and air them very quickly after they’re filmed.”

“Of course,” Michael cuts in immediately and Bakugo rolls his eyes before he gets more than two words in. “There will be expectations on your behavior and your presentation. Especially once you have switched to live streaming,”

And to Kotaro’s surprise, Michael is looking pointedly at both Bakugo and Midoriya.

Bakugo, of course, looks entirely unconcerned, but Midoriya looks at least a little sheepish as he nods in acknowledgment of the statement, mumbling some sort of agreement under his breath. 

Kotaro has never been under the impression that he knows everything about the heroes that he works for, but everything about this encounter has made it abundantly clear that he knows even less than he thought. More than that, it has made it clear that he’s about to learn a whole lot of information that he never would’ve even dreamed he’d have access to, and he can’t tell if he’s dreading it or excited.

“Great.” Michael says, and he looks as pleased as possible for the situation. “Then we will start filming the first episode this Friday.”

“That’s in two days!” Bakugo interrupts.

“Then you better get your recipe to Kotaro today.” Michael replies breezily, smiling through Bakugo’s glare. “All that’s left is to decide on a title for the show.”

And with that, all eyes fall back to Kotaro.

“Well, I talked it over with my team, and we were thinking Dishes with Dynamight . Or Dynamight's Kitchen time. ” He answers hesitantly.

It admittedly wasn’t their best idea, but they hadn’t had enough time to really think about it. After presenting the idea to Michael and Bakugo last night, Michael had green-lit the idea and insisted that they start on it immediately, putting Kotaro in the worst time crunch of his life. So they had stayed up all night, scrambling, just trying to put together enough information to get through this meeting. 

“Hell no.” Bakugo replies immediately. “Those are the shittiest titles ever.”

“They’re not that bad.” Midoriya defends immediately.

“Yes they are.” Bakugo retorts. “I have taste , Deku. Classy taste, at that.”

“If anything, your taste is discriminating.” Midoriya replies immediately, a little snide, but clearly joking.

It gets a huff of laughter out of Bakugo who shakes his head in amusement. “Discriminating taste.” He mumbles, clearly entertained. “Now that’s a title. Why don’t we call the show that?”

And to what is the clear surprise of all three people in the room, Michael agrees. “Discriminating taste, huh? I kind of like it, let’s do that.”

“ What ?” Kotaro asks immediately, rounding on Michael. “That title sounds so negative! We can’t possibly use that!”

“That title sounds very Kacchan .” Midoriya points out. “It is very fitting of him. A little brash, but not untrue. His taste is discriminating. And he’s going to demonstrate that with the recipes he picks and the things he cooks! Plus, I’m sure there’s going to be some… less than savory language in there, so it’s fitting.”

“Fuck yeah there’s going to be.” Bakugo smiles and it’s all sharp around the edges.

Kotaro stares around the room in disbelief, completely out of his depth for what feels like the hundredth time already.

“Let’s just try it.” Michael says with a shrug. “If it goes over poorly, we’ll let the fans pick a new title.”

And just like that, Kotaro is off on the adventure that’s going to change his life. Whether it changes his life for the better or worse is entirely up in the air, but he’s certain that it’s going to change it absolutely and completely as he stares back at the faces around him. “Okay, Discriminating Taste it is.”

By the time the sun sets. Katsuki is dead on his feet, arms aching, shoulders throbbing, and feet dragging. Patrol had been a pain in the ass— the kind of pain in the ass that was filled with a bunch of annoying, petty, low-level villains that took up the whole day and involved a lot of chasing with not much gain. Sure, he and Izuku were able to catch them, but he and Izuku were also more skilled than those petty bastards deserved and their skills were much better suited for things far better than that. 

But it didn’t change the fact that it had kicked both of their asses all the same. Hard work was hard work, no matter how stupid the work was.

“Thank god the day’s finally over.” Izuku mumbles, practically falling into Katsuki’s shoulder as they take a seat on one of the benches in the park just around the corner from the agency. He’s got the sleeves of his uniform rolled up and his green curls are more of a disaster than usual. “I’m exhausted.”

“The day isn’t over.” Katsuki replies, nudging Izuku with his elbow, forcing him to readjust so he’s leaning against Katsuki in a more comfortable way. Izuku does move, almost subconsciously, the way he always seems to, melding around Katsuki as if forming to his shape or trying to fuse into him. “Your ass is coming back to my place and helping me clean, remember?”

Izuku groans, turning to press his forehead firmly against Katsuki’s exposed shoulder, whining. “Kacchan!”

“I don’t want to hear it, Deku.” Katsuki leans to the side and Izuku scrambles not to fall as Katsuki’s support is taken out from underneath him. “We talked about it.”

“The show isn’t for two more days! We can clean tomorrow!” Izuku bargains as he catches himself on the back of the bench, stopping himself from falling completely and looking up at Katsuki with pleading green eyes.

Katsuki would never tell him, but there’s something endearing about his curls when they get especially wild like this. It doesn’t make sense and Katsuki could never explain it, but Izuku pulls it off against all odds. The curls fall across his forehead and over his ears in haphazard ways, some still damp from sweat after they had spent the whole afternoon running across town. Katsuki forces himself to look away.

“We have work tomorrow, too, idiot.” He answers, watching the last tendrils of the sun set over the horizon. “You’re not going to be any less tired.”

“But I’ll have all day to plan on doing it, so I’ll be mentally prepared!” Izuku reasons as he reaches up to brush a few stray curls away from his eyes.

Katsuki turns a glare in his direction. “You had all day today to plan on it, asshole! We talked about it first thing this morning!”

Somehow they had managed to go the whole day without Izuku saying anything about how Katsuki had only agreed to do the show if Izuku did it with him. There were a few moments during the lull on patrol, a few moments while they were eating lunch or idling about on a street corner, waiting for the next thing to happen, when Katsuki could see that it was weighing on Izuku’s mind. He could practically read the words behind Izuku’s eyes, but every time Katsuki thought Izuku was going to bring it up, he didn’t. 

And that was fine and well by Katsuki, because he didn’t want to talk about it, any of it— the fact that he wanted Izuku to be there, to share this experience with Izuku, or even the fact that he had to do the stupid cooking show at all, he just didn’t even want to think about it.

“So, then, by tomorrow night I’ll have had two days to mentally prepare!” Izuku counters, thrusting a finger into the air as if he’s made some amazing point.

Katsuki smacks Izuku’s hand out of the air. “Get your stupid ass up and let’s go.”

With a sad huff, Izuku does as he’s told.

When Friday comes and Kotaro arrives with the lighting and film crews to Bakugo’s apartment, he doesn’t know what he expects to find.

What he does know is that he wasn’t prepared for Midoriya to be the one answering the door, a broad smile on his face as he waved everyone into the apartment. He also knows that he didn’t expect the apartment to have so much personality. 

Bakugo is notoriously aloof and closed off, with very little about his personal life actually known to the people at the agency, let alone the public, so it’s an incredibly large shock for Kotaro to walk in and find framed pictures, decorative pillows, posters on the wall, etc. Bakugo’s apartment actually looks like a home— and more than that, it looks lived in. It doesn’t look cold, it doesn’t look like some empty apartment that could’ve been an image pulled straight out of a magazine. There’s a blanked haphazardly folded up at the end of the couch, there’s shoes by the door and a coat hanging on a hook above them. It looks like the opposite of everything Kotaro would’ve expected and the fact that it immediately feels welcoming almost makes him feel alarmed.

Midoriya greets everyone individually, committing their names to memory the way he always does, before guiding them all to the kitchen. He’s dressed down in jeans and a nice button up shirt and it might be the first time Kotaro has ever seen him in something that isn’t green or white. His curls are the most tame that Kotaro has ever seen, as well. 

He moves around Bakugo’s apartment with absolute ease, stepping around furniture that he can’t even see because he’s glancing over his shoulder to talk to the crew that he’s leading. It’s clear that he’s been here before, but Kotaro adds it to the list of things that he’ll never mention for fear of death.

They collectively make it to the kitchen where Bakugo already is, standing at the counter with a drawer open as he sorts through utensils, glancing up briefly as everyone enters the room.

“Damn it,” He grumbles. “Where the fuck is my good knife?”

“Kacchan,” Midoriya says immediately, exasperated. “I told you earlier that I was washing it.”

Bakugo straightens up immediately, glancing over at the sink where a variety of things are drying in a dish drainer. His eyes seem to snag on something immediately and he looks triumphant as he reaches for it, grabbing a towel and carefully drying the sharp blade as he turns back to the group of people now standing in his kitchen and looking at him.

“Good evening, Bakugo.” Kotaro greets, stepping to the front of the crowd. “Thank you for allowing us into your home.”

“Didn’t have a choice.” Bakugo points out only to get a sharp elbow to the ribs from Midoriya.

“That’s true.” Kotaro concedes, inclining his head. “But even still, we appreciate it. You could have locked the door.”

“Not with Deku here, I couldn’t have.” Bakugo replies, and Midoriya shoots the group of people a winning smile. “He would’ve tied me to a chair before he would’ve let me do something like that.”

“It would be very rude!” Midoriya cries and a ripple of laughter goes through the room. 

The gentle bickering seems to break the tension a little bit and Kotaro hadn’t realized exactly how much had been there until it was gone. He thinks again to Michael’s comment about the dynamic between Midoriya and Bakugo and he feels something settle in his stomach— he can’t name what it is but it gives him the same sort of comfortable unease that Bakugo’s apartment gives him. Something about him feels like he should be on edge around the two of them, that he should be worried and afraid the way he has always been but with them standing in front of him in jeans, bickering over something so normal and making jokes like any of Kotaro’s friends would make, they feel just like normal people— like approachable people. 

For one fleeting, momentary second, Kotaro thinks that maybe making Bakugo likable to the public isn’t impossible. That maybe, just maybe, there really is humanity in there, and he’s just been keeping it locked away for one reason or another. 

“Did you get the ingredients?” Bakugo asks and the sudden sound of his voice shakes Kotaro out of his sudden reverie. 

He shakes himself back to the present moment and jumps back to life, hustling up to the countertop to deposit the bag he had been holding in his hand this entire time. “Yes, right here! I got everything on your list!”

Bakugo immediately starts to open the bag and pull out the ingredients inside with Midoriya close at his shoulder, leaning over to watch.

“Katsudon?” Midoriya asks as Bakugo lays down a package of pork. “That’s what you picked for your first dish?”

“You complaining, Deku?” Bakugo glances up at him, continuing to empty the bag as he does so. “You just have to sit there and eat.”

“No, no!” Midoriya replies immediately, meeting Bakugo’s gaze. “You just usually hate when I request Katsudon.”

“Yeah because you don’t ever do shit and still have the nerve to put in a request.” Bakugo replies and it earns a smile from Midoriya who reaches over his shoulder for rice, gathering it up in his hands. “But it’s an easy recipe to teach so I figured it would be a good starting point.”

“I think that was very smart of you, Kacchan.” Midoriya says approvingly, the warm smile that he usually wears is just a little bit different than usual. Kotaro can’t quite put his finger on it, but there’s something a little more fond around the edges.

It takes a second for Kotaro to realize that he’s done nothing but stand there and watch their exchange while the rest of the crew has started setting up different lighting equipment and testing out microphones. Luckily, neither Midoriya nor Bakugo seem to have noticed that he’s just hovering at the end of the counter, either, and he’s able to quietly take a few steps back and meld into the work the other members of the team are doing. 

The setup goes surprisingly quickly, not that Kotaro really had any idea how long it would take. He certainly doesn’t know anything about lighting or how involved it is. But they had managed to hire a very skilled team who made it look like the easiest thing in the world and suddenly Bakugo’s kitchen was flooded with light and Midoriya and Bakugo were both being fitted with microphones. Suddenly this thing that Kotaro had come up with was coming to life and he was realizing that there was no more backing out now.

He thinks again of his office and the cardboard boxes he had considered packing all of his items into, of the black mark this would leave on his career if it went wrong. But then he thinks of the fleeting moment of humanity he had felt from both Bakugo and Midoriya, of the way they had felt just like regular people instead of larger than life celebrities and he has a moment of courage. If this goes down in flames— which is still very much possible, as much as he wishes it wasn’t— he’s going to go down in flames with it.

The kitchen is set up, the ingredients are spread out on the counter, Bakugo and Midoriya are in their places behind the counter and the rest of the crew is out of the frame. The sound crew is giving Kotaro the thumbs up that everything is working, the film crew seems content with the picture they have and suddenly, Kotaro is counting down to the first episode of something that he knows he’ll never be fully prepared for.

“Ready?” Kotaro asks. Midoriya nods and Bakugo gives half an inclination of the head in acknowledgement. “Recording in three, two, one—“

Discriminating Taste

Cooking with Dynamight

Episode 1: Spicy Katsudon

Follow along with Dynamight’s recipe here!

The screen is black for a long second, almost too long of a second as if there might be some soft of technical difficulties. But then, all at once, the picture comes into view. 

Dynamight is standing in the middle of the screen, right in the center of a beautiful marble kitchen island with a series of ingredients spread out before him. He has on a deep red button up and he’s scowling at the screen. Next to him, a stark contrast in both color and attitude is Deku, smiling and waving at the screen in his light blue button up.

“Good evening, everyone!” Deku says warmly as he continues to wave at the screen, his eyes crinkled at the corners. “Thank you for joining us in Kacchan’s kitchen!”

Dynamight’s scowl deepens as he lets out a deep sigh. “Yeah,” He says after a moment, “Thanks for joining us, or something.”

“You know,” Deku says, entirely unbothered by Dynamight’s attitude. “Kacchan’s Kitchen would’ve been a good name for this show, too.”

“Shut up and sit down.” Dynamight says without any hesitation, his hand finding Deku’s shoulder and giving him a shove.

It would seem mean if Deku didn’t laugh in response, clearly delighted at the reaction he had gotten. He stumbles a step away before immediately coming back to Dynamight’s side, a magnet drawn back to it’s opposite pole. 

“Wait!” He says cheerfully, crouching down. It appears that he’s reaching into a cupboard underneath the island but it’s impossible to tell from the camera angle. Dynamight watches him, still frowning, and ends up stepping out of the way when Deku appears to throw open another cupboard door, knocking him in the shin.

“Ow, watch what you’re doing, Deku.” Dynamight barks, bending to rub just below his knee.

“Sorry!” Deku replies, immediately reaching to place his own hand over Dynamight’s. Dynamight brushes his hands away and Deku smiles sheepishly as he returns back to what he had been doing, his head nearly disappearing completely as he reaches almost his entire body into the cupboard.

“What the hell are you even doing? I already got everything out.” Dynamight remarks as he straightens back up and takes another step back for good measure. 

“I swear— it’s— in here— somewhere—“ Deku is clearly wearing a microphone so his words can still be heard, even though he can’t really be seen, but the effort he’s putting into whatever he’s doing is clear in the tension of his voice. And then, just as suddenly as he disappeared, he exclaims, “Aha!” And then he’s standing back up, closing the cupboard, and clutching a box against his chest. 

Dynamight glances between Deku, the box in his arms, and the cupboard it had just come out of. “What the hell is that? When did you even get that in here?”

“It’s a gift!” Deku smiles, extending the box towards Dynamight with a big smile and completely ignoring the second half of the question that was asked. “To commemorate this show that you’re doing!”

Dynamight stares at the box in Deku’s hands as if it has offended him somehow, or as if it might be somehow plotting against him. There is something definitely mischievous in Deku’s expression— somewhere in the curl of his smile or the laughter in his eyes, and the look on Dynamight’s face suggests that he sees that and even more. Hesitantly, he reaches out to take the box, shaking it while it’s still extended away from his body. There’s a very faint rustling noise that comes from it, but nothing else.

“What is it?” He asks, looking suspiciously at Deku.

Deku just smiles in a way that is so innocent, it looks guilty. ‘You have to open it to find out, that’s the whole point!”

With one more uncertain look at Deku, Dynamight sets the box down on the counter, directly in front of him. He spends a moment rearranging the ingredients on the counter so he can more easily open the box and then he’s doing exactly that: tearing off a piece of tape that’s holding the lid of the box shut and carefully pulling it off. There’s tissue paper inside the box that he carefully opens and then his expression morphs completely,

“Deku,” He says, turning to look lethally at Deku next to him. “What the fuck is this?”

Deku, for his part, looks far too pleased as he answers. “It’s an apron! You’ve been complaining that you need a new one for a while so I figured that it would be perfect to kick off your new cooking show!”

Dynamight reaches into the box and pulls the green apron out, holding it up in front of him as he turns to face Deku, “Why does it say Deku’s #1 Superfan on it?”

There’s a long moment where Deku tries and fails miserably at hiding his grin. He bites the corner of his lip as he glances away from Dynamight, his hand a fist as he presses it against the countertop in what appears to be a desperate bid to keep his composure. His shoulders shake with laughter that he’s trying to suppress but even through the screen, it’s easy to see that he’s barely holding onto his professional presentation. 

“Well,” He says, and then he has to pause because the sound of his laughter starts slipping through again. “You are my biggest fan, aren’t you, Kacchan?

There’s a moment of commotion before the screen flashes. When the picture comes back, Dynamight is once again standing behind the counter, wearing the green Deku’s #1 Superfan apron and Deku is seated on a stool just off to the side with the biggest grin that has probably ever existed. He looks more pleased than anything else as he watches Dynamight adjust the apron and continue to send him death glares.

“Deku,” A voice says from off screen and both Dynamight and Deku turn to look at someone that can’t be seen on camera. “What makes you say he’s your biggest fan? You have a lot of fans who I bet aren’t willing to give up that title so easily.”

Deku laughs warmly as he settles into his chair, propping an elbow on the counter and settling his chin into his palm. “You’re right, I am blessed with some very amazing fans. But Kacchan and I have known each other since we were kids. So as much as I appreciate every single fan for their love and support, Kacchan has about fifteen years on all of them.”

“I did not love or support you for those fifteen years.” Dynamight remarks. “And I don’t love or support you now, either, you bastard.”

“Your apron suggests otherwise.” Deku remarks.

“That’s only because you’re enough of a smug bastard to come into my house and throw away my old apron so I’m forced to wear this ugly thing!” Dynamight gestures to the apron as he talks, as if there was any uncertainty as to what he was referring to. 

“Like I said, you’ve been complaining for a while that your other apron was getting old! I was just doing you a favor!” Deku offers the same smile that’s so innocent it’s actually guilty and Dynamight rolls his eyes in response.

“I will get revenge for this.” He remarks. “But can we just get on with the damn cooking so I can take this stupid thing off? That’s what everyone is supposedly here for anyway, right?”

Dynamight is looking offscreen again, presumably at whoever had spoken before. Deku follows his gaze and there seems to be some sort of wordless communication happening, even though the third person in the conversation is completely out of view. It appears that he gives the approval though because Dynamight sends Deku a smug look and begins reaching for the ingredients. 

“Great.” He says. “We’re making Katsudon today. I sent him—“ he gestures to the same mystery off-screen person again, “my recipe and I’m told it’ll be linked somewhere in this video so you can follow along.”

“Kacchan makes really good Katsudon,” Deku cuts in, smiling as he turns his head in his palm to watch as Dynamight begins reaching for the ingredients. 

“Damn right I do.” He grabs a knife off the counter and slices through the pork packaging with ease. “And as usual, you’re just sitting there, doing nothing.”

“I offer moral support.” Deku says. “Plus, I washed the rice for you.”

“Wow,” Dynamight replies sarcastically as he pulls the pork out of the package and places each silice on a piece of plastic wrap, “What would I do without you?”

“Probably be the number one hero.” Deku quips and Dynamight’s head whips up so fast that it looks painful.

“Okay, okay!” The mystery person rushes on screen suddenly, waving hands in front of him as he does so, “Please don’t kill each other.”

But, despite Dynamight’s instant reaction and the apparent harshness of Deku’s words, neither of them look like they’re going to kill each other. In fact, Dynamight’s eyebrows have risen so high up they’ve practically disappeared off of his face as he stares at Deku, his mouth partially open in what can only be described as disbelief. But he looks a little impressed, too, like he didn't expect Deku to say something so bold. Deku smiles at him, but all the smugness is gone, and it wavers around the edges with guilt and what looks like an invisible apology. The mystery man stands with his back to the camera on the opposite side of the counter as the two heroes, staring nervously between the two of them.

Finally, Dynamight goes back to what he was doing, placing the knife down as he folds the piece of plastic wrap in half so that the pork is completely covered by it, picking up a meat tenderizer instead. “You’ve always been the biggest shit I’ve known.”

Deku turns his attention to the mystery man after it’s become clear that Dynamight isn’t actually going to kill him, offering an apologetic smile. “Sorry, Kotaro. I promise there will be only cooking and no murdering.”

“Speak for yourself.” Dynamight mumbles.

“I promise, on both of our behalves,” Deku repeats with emphasis. “Only cooking, no murdering.”

The mystery man, Kotaro, sags against the counter, pressing both hands against the counter top and dropping his head between his shoulders. “I agree with Dynamight. Can we get to the cooking part?”

“Yeah,” Dynamight points the meat tenderizer at Deku. “Kotaro says sit the hell down and shut the hell up, Deku.”

“Well, now, I didn’t say that —“ Kotaro hedges, scrubbing a hand across his eyes as he stands up. “But this is supposed to be a cooking show.”

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry!” Deku says again, “I promise I’ll stop.” And then he turns his smile towards Dynamight. “Go on, Kacchan, I won’t interrupt.”

Kotaro makes his way back off the screen and the actual cooking portion of the show finally proceeds,

Dynamight is a surprisingly good teacher. He takes his time to not only explain what he’s doing, but to demonstrate it as well. On top of that, he gives different options and explains how it will affect not only the cooking time but the final taste of the dish. 

His preferred method of making Katsudon involves flattening the meat with the tenderizer first before coating each side in salt and pepper and a light dusting of salt. Once Katsuki has the meat prepared, he heats up a small amount of oil in a pan and begins explaining how to know when the oil is done and what to prepare in the meantime. 

“I’m not going to tell you how to cook rice,” He says once he’s finished setting up his bowls with egg and panko for the meat, “Because if you can’t do that, you shouldn’t be cooking at all.”

“The first time you cooked us rice, you burned it so bad that your mom had to throw the pan away completely.” Deku finally speaks up again.

“We were nine , Deku!” Dynamight grumbles, shooting him another glare that Deku completely ignores.

Deku keeps talking as Dynamight dips the meat in the egg and then the panko before gently setting it in the pan. He had already explained the next steps so Deku isn’t interrupting any important information. “So? What if there are nine-year-olds watching this?”

Dynamight puts the last piece of meat in the pan and turns to point his chopsticks at the camera, “If you’re letting your nine-year-olds watch this, you’re a shitty parent. There’s nothing about me that’s appropriate for a nine-year-old.”

That earns a laugh from Deku as he sits upright fully. “That’s a good point, this show probably isn’t appropriate for children.”

“Hell no it’s not.” Dynamight replies as he begins picking up dishes off the counter and setting them in the sink.

Deku, though, still seems to be stuck on the memory he had brought up. “Do you remember your mom’s face when you did that? When she came home to the house filled with smoke?”

“She was so pissed.” Dynamight laughs, a genuine smile on his lips as he leans back against the counter, crossing his arms over his chest. “She yelled at us for at least ten minutes after that.”

“Your dad was so proud, though.” Deku reminisces, his gaze far away as if he were reliving the moment again. 

“He has always been so easy to please.” Dynamight says with a shrug, but his smile almost looks tender. “If I tried anything, he was proud, even if I failed. Same went for you, too. He was always proud of everything you did.”

Deku’s smile is outright fond as he turns to look at Dynamight, “I remember the first time I fell and scraped up my knee, when he was patching me up he told me that my scrape was proof that I had done something new.”

“Tch,” Dynamight looks to the side, glancing at his food instead of meeting Deku’s gaze, “He was always soft like that.”

“I think it’s nice.” Deku says. “I think we needed that when we were younger.”

“You did.” Dynamight presses off the counter and turns towards the stove, reaching for the handle of the pork pan and shifting it slightly over the heat. “You were so goddamn clumsy back then, you were constantly getting hurt. Somebody needed to baby you.”

Dynamight flips the pork in the pan and reaches for the pan with the rice, peeking through the lid to make sure it was cooking appropriately. Pleased, he turns back towards the cameras, leaning against the counter again. The pork cooks for 5-6 minutes per side, he had said initially, so they had 5-6 minutes to kill before anything needed to be done. He had already cut up the onions for the next step, the egg was already beaten in a bowl. 

Silence falls for a moment through the kitchen but it doesn’t seem to be awkward. It was clear in the conversation that they had just shared that Dynamight and Deku are close, but it’s also clear in the companionable way they are able to sit in silence together. 

Still, probably because it makes bad TV to have complete silence, Kotaro’s voice pipes up from offscreen suddenly. “I don’t think I knew that you guys were friends growing up.”

“Oh yeah,” Deku says immediately. “We’ve been friends our whole lives.”

“I tried my hardest to get rid of him.” Dynamight says, and the wry twist to Deku’s lips implies that it’s a true statement. “Didn’t work, obviously.”

“You tried to get rid of him,” Kotaro repeats, “But you were the one who said you wouldn’t do this cooking show unless he did it with you.”

Immediately there’s a dusting of red across Dynamight’s cheeks, traveling up towards the tips of his ears. He clenches his jaw and looks stubbornly away from the camera, away from Deku, and away from where Kotaro is presumably standing even though he can’t be seen for it to be confirmed, but he doesn’t say anything.

“See, Kacchan?” Deku says after a moment, “You are my number one fan!”

“I’m going to go back to Michael and tell him that I’ll only do this show if you aren’t involved.” Dynamight grinds out, his cheeks bright red at his point. 

“It’ll be too late at that point!” Deku points out, “This episode will have already aired and everyone will already know how much you love me,”

“I like him being here,” Kotaro says, and there’s a little bit of hesitancy in his voice. “I think he can give us a lot of secrets about you.”

Dynamight raises an eyebrow and he looks both surprised and impressed. “That’s a bold thing to say.”

“Deku promised me no murder.” Kotaro reminds him.

Deku laughs and Dynamight glances at him and even through the cameras, it looks like the red on his cheeks darkens a little. 

“I can tell secrets about Deku, too, you know.” Dynamight says after a moment.

“Oh?” Kotaro says and Deku is staring at Dynamight as if he’s either daring him to try or not sure that he would actually do it.

“Do you know that he has his own cooking playlist? It’s full of ridiculous songs that he sings and dances to whenever he cooks.” Dynamight stares directly at Deku as he says it, clearly accepting an unspoken challenge.

“It’s a good playlist!” Deku cries immediately. “And cooking is more fun with music!”

“What are the odds we can hear this playlist?” Kotaro asks.

Deku hesitates for a moment, glancing at Dynamight.

“Trust me,” Dynamight says. “You don’t want to see his embarrassing dancing.”

“Mean.” Deku mumbles under his breath. Dynamight sneers in response. 

“Think about it.” Kotaro says. “Is that fair to ask?”

“Fine,” Deku agrees after a moment. “I’ll think about sending it to you. But that’s it!”

Dynamight shakes his head and turns back to the food, pulling the pork out of the pan and transferring it onto a paper towel covered plate. He doesn’t say anything else about the playlist and Deku stays quiet again, allowing Dynamight to explain the next steps of cooking the onions to almost caramelization, adding in the wet ingredients and then putting the pork back on top before adding the eggs. He takes another moment to explain different flavors that can be added to make unique versions of the standard dish and discusses at which point each flavor should be added for maximum effectiveness.

The entire time he talks, gesturing with his chopsticks, Deku watches him fondly, smiling a little to himself. He never interrupts, but he watches every movement Dynamight makes with rapt attention, completely enthralled by him. 

Once Dynamight has finished explaining the next steps, he sets off to perform them himself. He moves through the kitchen with absolute expertise, even though it’s a fairly simple recipe to make. Every movement he makes he makes with confidence and it’s clear that he’s been doing this for a long time. He may have had some mistakes in the past— burnt rice and all that— but it doesn’t appear as if he makes any mistakes in his cooking anymore. 

He stirs the onions in the pan before adding the other ingredients. He leaves them to cook while he pulls the rice off the heat, taking the lid off and depositing that in the kitchen sink as well.

“Deku,” He says.

Immediately, Deku jumps into action. No additional words are spoken, no explanation of what he wants, he simply says Deku’s name, but Deku seems to understand all the same. He stands up from his chair and crosses the kitchen, reaching into an overhead cupboard to pull down three bowls and carries them over to the kitchen counter, spreading them out. Dynamight follows behind him, dividing the rice evenly between each bowl while Deku goes and grabs a pair of chopsticks for each bowl. He, too, moves around the kitchen with ease, as if he had been there a few times before, opening only one drawer because he knew where he needed to be, reaching inside while barely even looking.

Once Dynamight has finished with the rice, he extends the pot to Deku who takes it immediately and they move around each other with practiced ease, Deku taking the pot to the sink while Dynamight heads back to the stove to take the last of the food off of the heat, carrying it back to deposit it in the bowls as well. The way they work around each other suggests years of working together out in the field, the kind of understanding that only comes from being close and doing a lot of training with each other. It was known that they often were sent on missions together because they worked well together, but most civilians didn’t get to see that teamwork because it was behind the scenes. 

“Now,” Dynamight says, sliding a bowl across the counter with chopsticks sitting across the top of it, “This one’s for Deku because he’s a baby and can’t handle anything spicy.” He slides the other bowl towards the camera, “This one’s for you, Kotaro. There’s chili flakes if you want them.” And then he pulls the last bowl towards himself, picking up the chili flakes as he does so. “And this one is for me. I will take chili flakes because I’m not a wimp and I like spice.”

Deku finishes putting the last pan in the sink and returns to the counter, dragging a second stool over and offering it to Dynamight who slides onto it, propping one leg up as he does so. He takes up his own seat, reaching for his bowl and snapping his chopsticks with an emphatic thank you, Kacchan!

“Kotaro,” Deku says before he takes his first bite of food, the chopsticks halfway to his mouth, “Come on!”

Hesitantly, Kotaro wanders his way onto the screen, pausing in front of the bowl that has been offered up as his. “This is for me?”

“Unless there’s someone else here named Kotaro who has forced me to do a cooking show against my will,” Dynamight says, already on his second bite of food. 

“You’ll love it,” Deku says, finally taking his first bite. “Kacchan’s Katsudon is—“ and then Deku’s eyes go wide as he tries to hurry through chewing his bite of food scrambling out of chair as he rushes for a glass. “Spicy! Kacchan, what did you do? ”

Immediately, Dynamight breaks out into laughter, throwing his head back and laughing so hard that he has to set his bowl down on the counter. Deku rushes around the kitchen behind him to try and fill a glass with water, drinking about half of it before pausing, panting, to glare at Dynamight from where he is a few feet away. 

“I put chili flakes in the eggs.” Dynamight answers after his pleased laughter dies down. He swivels on his stool to look at Deku. “You deserved that and you know it.”

“Now I know why you insisted that I do this show with you.” Deku whines, taking another sip of water and fanning his mouth. “You just wanted to get back at me.”

“Yep.” Dynamight agrees, reaching for his bowl of Katsudon again and taking another bite. “And you make it so easy because you’re such a goddamn baby about spices.” He then turns to address the camera, "Now I don't recommend adding chili flakes to the eggs unless you really like spice or you have someone you need to get back at, like Deku. Normally you should leave them for the end so you can add them in small doses until you get the spice level you desire."

“Kacchan, that’s so mean .” Deku complains as he refills his glass with water and finally returns to his stool, pushing his bowl of food away. “I was so excited to eat it.”

“Oh, shut up.” Dynamight says on the end of a frustrated sigh. “I had Kotaro buy enough supplies that I can make you more.”

Immediately, Deku perks back up again. “You did?”

“But you’re waiting until I finish eating mine, first.” Dynamight warns, pointing his chopsticks at Deku to make a point. Then, he turns to regard Kotaro who had taken a couple bites of his own Katsudon in silence. “I’ll remake yours, too, if you don’t like the spice.”

Kotaro shakes his head, a hand covering his mouth as he swallows the bite he had just taken. “It’s really good with the spice, actually.” He says, “Thank you, it was very kind of you to make me a portion, too.”

The last thing the episode shows is Dynamight looking at Kotaro, clearly surprised, cutting off right as he mumbles, “Maybe you aren’t so bad after all.”

Melancholycouchpotato: I knew Dynamight and Deku were friends, but did anyone know they had been friends since childhood?

apparently_a_robot: did anyone else expect this to be a joke? Like clickbait or something? I didn’t expect to actually find Dynamight and Deku cooking.

Forgivingsummers: not the apron ☠️☠️☠️

Komaira: is it just me or does their fighting look more like flirting? Dynamight was pretty red in the middle there,,,,

Steviebanks: AND HE CAN COOK? IS THERE ANYTHING HE CAN’T DO?

404missing: wait wtf why is Dynamight actually a really good teacher?

Ktdklover: not Deku being close with Dynamight’s family 😭

Leowulf35: why doesn’t this have more views? WHY DOESN’T THIS HAVE MORE VIEWS?

FeralAntQueen: I actually will fight Dynamight for title of number one Deku super fan 

xxxNERDxxx: this is it, this is my entire personality now. I’m only going to talk about this for the rest of my life.

Catt811: petition to get Deku’s cooking playlist

Fangirl_on_fire: I will do ANYTHING for that cooking playlist

Xpaperheartso: who was going to tell me that Dynamight actually has a really pretty smile????

Kotaro hadn’t expected the first episode to have many views. They hadn’t had long to advertise it, for one thing. Plus, the first episode of anything had the least number of views. That was how it worked. Word had to get out, the people who did see it had to talk about it— that was the nature of things. 

So when they posted it and it got a couple thousand views, he was really happy. That was more than he could’ve asked for. He patted himself on the back for a job well done and went to sleep content with himself. He’d gotten to learn more about both Deku and Dynamight and he’d gotten to eat some delicious food. That was more than he expected for the day and he was going to sleep easy with that.

So when he woke up Saturday morning to see hundreds of thousands of views, his jaw nearly hit the floor.

Chapter Text

The room is filled with the kind of tense silence that cannot be broken as they all crowd around the desk and stare at the statistics pulled up on the computer screen before them.

Kotaro had nearly sprinted into the PR office this morning, dragging Hanaku and Hiroto over to his desk before he even said good morning to them. They had come with little protest, staring wide-eyed at the screen as he pulled up the information he wanted to show them. And then they’d just stood there, silently, staring at the screen as if they were all waiting for something to pop up and say that this was part of some elaborate prank. It had been nearly three minutes of silence and so far, the only thing that had happened was that the numbers they were staring at continued to tick up slowly.

Finally, Hanaku is the one to break the silence. 

She takes in a breath that’s audible in the still silence of the room and then says, her voice just above a hoarse whisper, “Am I reading that right?” She glances over to Hiroto and Kotaro for confirmation. “Does that really have a comma in it?”

And it does, it really does.

Kotaro hadn’t been able to believe it himself, honestly. When he’d woken up to check the statistics of their first cooking episode, he had expected maybe a couple hundred views at best. The whole idea had been sort of a last-minute scramble and there hadn’t been time to properly market the idea at all. He had posted about it on the company social media pages but those rarely got traction on the best of days. Honestly, he’s not sure how anyone really heard about the cooking show at all, but he is left to assume that one person— or maybe two, three at most— stumbled upon it accidentally and then word of mouth spread from there.

Because the number on the screen definitely has a comma. 

There were over three hundred thousand views on the first episode, the number continuing to increase steadily but slowly as they all stared at it, open-mouthed and lost for words.

“It does.” Kotaro finally confirms after a moment, his jaw practically sore from sitting on the ground all morning. “And the reviews—“ he finally moves from where he’s been frozen this entire time, leaning forward to click on a different tab, “are all good. Everyone who watched it loved it.”

It had been like a dream, sifting through the comments this morning and reading what everyone had to say about it. They loved the idea, they loved Dynamight and Deku’s dynamic, the appreciated how well Dynamight managed to teach. For what an absolutely far-fetched and absurd idea it had been to start with, it appeared to be working because people were only saying good things about Dynamight and honestly, Kotaro thinks that must be the first time in his entire career that he has seen so many good things about the hero. He had spent the morning considering pinching himself, or purposely walking into a door just to see if he was really awake. For all he knew, Bakugo had knocked him out after he had suggested the idea and this was all an elaborate dream as he slept peacefully in a hospital bed, Bakugo’s grace— or most likely Midoriya’s interference— the only thing keeping him alive. 

Hiroto finally seems to shake himself back to reality, too, as he braces a hand on the desk and leans forward to scan the comments that are still flooding in as they stare. “They loved it?”

“Yeah,” Kotaro points out a few comments that stuck out to him and Hiroto’s eyebrows rise so high, they can barely be seen anymore as he scans them. 

“And you really didn’t make this all up?” Hiroto asks after a moment, glancing up at Kotaro.

Honestly, more than anything else, Kotaro appreciates the dedication that Hiroto thinks he has to this job.

And he is dedicated to his job, clearly willing to do whatever it takes to get his job done, but even with that dedication, he wouldn’t go to the effort to make hundreds of accounts, come up with hundreds of individual comments and program a bunch of bots to watch the video on repeat. He’s not even sure he would know how to do the last part. 

“It’s all genuine.” He answers, just as blown away as his coworkers, despite the fact that he’s had this information for a few hours longer than them. “I haven’t done anything.”

Truthfully, Kotaro wasn’t sure how long it was going to take to get him to believe what he was seeing. Each time the number increased, it became even more unbelievable that this was actually happening. He had agreed to try, to give it his best shot, but he hadn’t expected it to work — and certainly not so instantaneously. 

“The numbers are only going to increase with each episode.” Hanaku points out after a moment. “You realize that, right? If we do proper marketing for it and people keep talking about it, it’s only going to grow from here.”

And that— that is something Kotaro definitely can’t wrap his head around. He hadn’t even been expecting to reach these kind of numbers by the end. Honestly, even though he had been told to make six episodes of the cooking show, Kotaro had expected it to fizzle out after two or three, clearly not a profitable endeavor that wasn’t worth the effort to continuing pursuing it. He had expected Michael to shrug when Kotaro showed him the data and throw out some variation of at least we tried our best before allowing the idea to die. By then the steam would have blown over anyways and whatever anger some of the public had towards the two pro heroes would be resolved or forgotten.

But this— this all but sealed all of their fates. There was no way that Michael was going to look at these numbers and not require the full six weeks. That meant that Kotaro was going to be spending a night in Bakugo’s kitchen every week for the next five weeks— he was going to go toe to toe with imminent death on a weekly basis and each new time he faced it, the odds of Bakugo actually killing him probably increased. It may only be a marginal increase, but any increase was a chance that Kotaro wasn’t particularly thrilled about taking.

Except, now, instead of being a black mark that smudges his career permanently, he was standing on the precipice of something that could make his career, catapulting him to the top of the PR game and leaving him in a nearly undefeatable position. He no longer has the option of packing those cardboard boxes and hanging his head as he slipped out the back door, unnoticed by anyone. He had started this, so now he had to finish it.

The change is immediate.

It’s subtle, sure. Barely even noticeable if Katsuki chooses to overlook it— and he does, most of the time. But it’s there whenever he does choose to look, and he doesn’t know how to feel about it. His gut reaction is to be repulsed by it, but he’s not entirely sure why. 

For all the years that they had been pro heroes, both Katsuki and Izuku had gotten their fair share of fan mail. It probably had a lot to do with the fact that their class was one of the most well known classes in UA history and they had participated in a war before they’d even had their official hero licenses. Sometimes. Katsuki chooses to overlook that as well. Regardless, the idea of getting fan mail is far from a new concept to Katsuki, just like it’s normal for them to get stopped on the street as people request to take pictures with them or congratulate them on their most recent win.

When Katsuki had decided to be a hero, he hadn’t thought about much more than the taste of victory on his tongue as he stood triumphant over the enemy. He hadn’t really thought about becoming a public figure, a household name, someone for little kids to look up to. 

It’s silly to think that he hadn’t realized this aspect of his future considering he had been that little kid looking up to All Might and always hoping to pass him by happenstance on the street so he could tell All Might just how impressed he was. But somehow the idea had never occurred to him that other people would feel that way about him. 

In the end, he had gotten used to it as best as he was ever going to get used to it, had learned to swallow down the small amount of discomfort that still came with being recognized, and managed to put on the closest thing he had to a smile whenever people tried to interact with him.

But now that things have shifted— even if they’re only a few degrees to the left— he was thrust back into that initial feeling of unease and discomfort. 

Most people who saw him and Izuku strolling the street still just wanted pictures with them or yelled encouraging words as they passed by. There were always the few people who were wearing their merch, smiling broadly as they pointed to their shirts or hoodie. It seemed mostly normal— until one of the people who stopped them placed her hand on Katsuki’s forearm before he could slip away.

“I want you to know that I followed your Katsudon recipe,” She says earnestly and with a warm smile on her face. Katsuki freezes in his spot but out of the corner of his eye, he can see Izuku’s wide eyes and matching smile. “It was absolutely delicious!”

“Isn’t it great?” Izuku jumps into the conversation with that level of excitement he’s known for, practically vibrating at Katsuki’s side with something Katsuki has come to recognize as pride. He only vibrates on this particular wavelength when he’s especially proud of something— or in this case, someone. That someone, of course, being Katsuki. It makes the whole situation more uncomfortable. “Kacchan has always made my favorite Katsudon!”

The woman is nodding as she looks at Izuku, her hand practically burning through Katsuki’s forearm. “I’ve made katsudon for years but the changes you suggested,” she turns her warm gaze back on Katsuki and he doesn’t know what to say or how to respond. “were both super easy to make and very tasty! My whole family loved it! I can’t wait to try all of your other recipes!”

Katsuki opens his mouth, not sure what to say other than a simple, “Thanks.”

But that seems to be all the woman needs because she beams at him, squeezes his arm once in what is obviously meant to be a fond gesture and then she takes her leave, waving at Izuku as she goes. 

There’s a long moment where Katsuki continues to stare after the woman for no reason other than the desire to avoid making the eye contact that Izuku is clearly waiting for. He can feel it, the way Izuku’s proud gaze is burning into the side of his face, the way Izuku continues to vibrate with that same pride next to him. He doesn’t have to turn to Izuku to know what he’s going to say, but he also knows that it’s going to be impossible to avoid. 

Katsuki takes a deep breath and lets it out slowly before turning to face Izuku. 

“See?” Is all Izuku says to start and Katsuki resists the urge to roll his eyes or sneer. Izuku huffs out a quiet laugh and tacks more onto the end, though Katsuki isn’t sure he actually wants that. “People other than me love your cooking!”

“She didn’t try my cooking.” Katsuki points out as he sets off again, knowing that Izuku will inevitably fall into step with him the way he has their entire lives. “She followed my recipe. That’s not the same thing.”

“It’s essentially the same thing.” Izuku, true to form, is entirely unbothered by Katsuki being contrary. He simply smiles through it and brushes it off as if Katsuki hadn’t said it at all. It was one of Izuku’s most well-honed skills at this point in their lives. “And I guarantee she’s not the only one. Did you hear about the numbers the first episode got?”

The answer to that question is sort of . Because Katsuki and Izuku had both been copied in on an email from Kotaro where he was sending the updated information to Michael. So Katsuki had every ability to be informed of the numbers, he just chose not to be. He hadn’t even opened the damn email, honestly. He’d read the title of it, seen who was included in the recipients, and deleted it without even a moment’s consideration of reading it. 

The truth was, he didn’t give a shit. He didn’t have any choice about making the rest of these episodes— Michael had ordered a strict six weeks and Katsuki had agreed. Even if it had been begrudging, it had also been binding. So whether the show was a huge success or a huge flop didn’t impact the next five weeks of Katsuki’s life. 

“It’s not like that shit matters.” He says to Izuku instead of actually answering his question, but he knows that Izuku will deduce the answer from just those words. He’s always been annoyingly observant, especially when it came to Katsuki.

“Of course it does.” Izuku replies on the tail end of a sigh, shaking his head in a way that is both fond and exasperated. This exact conversation is new, but the tone of it is familiar to both of them. They slip into their roles easily and without hesitation, Izuku fighting for Katsuki to see the value in something that he had dismissed before even considering it. “You could really make a difference in people’s lives with this.”

“I already make a difference in people’s lives.” Katsuki spits back, a little irritated at the concept. “By fighting off villains and keeping their asses safe. There’s a million cooking videos on the internet. There aren’t a million heroes saving the day.”

Izuku inclines his head in acknowledgement of Katsuki’s statement, but Katsuki knows that’s not the end of it. 

It would be a good argument to use on literally anyone other than Izuku. But since Izuku is, in essence, the only hero that is better than Katsuki, it almost nullifies the statement. Because Izuku is out there making that same difference in people’s lives, he understands Katsuki’s point and where he’s coming from, but he’s also suck a fucking goody two-shoes that he’s constantly going above and beyond to try and aid people more than he already does. If going the extra mile is above and beyond, Izuku goes the extra ten miles just because that’s who he is as a person. So of course he would see this as something additional that’s aiding the community they serve, something they should be devoting their time to.

It’s not like the fights, training, paperwork, and cleanup leave them with much free time. But Izuku has somehow always managed to stretch the number of hours in a day to unfathomable levels, making it so that he could get more done in less time. Katsuki had been at his side for years now and he still didn’t have a single idea how the damn nerd managed to do it. 

“I know you already do a lot for the city,” Izuku says in a way that is clearly meant to placate. If it were anyone else, Katsuki would have their head for being a condescending asshole, but he knows that Izuku doesn’t mean it that way. It still ruffles his feathers just a little and he shoots Izuku a sharp look. “But this really could have the impact Michael and Kotaro want. You could be making a day-to-day impact on people’s lives. And I, personally, think that’s really cool.”

“Of course you do.” Katsuki grumbles, stepping closer to Izuku to allow them to sneak around a group of people waiting for the bus. “You think everything is cool. That’s why you keep those shitty notebooks.”

This time it’s Izuku who rolls his eyes. “I’m going to ignore that.”

“How generous of you.” Katsuki bites back, but it doesn’t land.

Nothing snide or snarky he says to Izuku ever lands anymore. They had long since moved past the point in their relationship where their words were covered with actual barbs or sharpened to hurt. Now everything they said was in good nature or taken with a grain of salt. Katsuki didn’t have the same hatred for Izuku that he’d had when they were younger, he didn’t feel that same inferiority, even though he now knew with absolute certainty that Izuku was better than him. 

“I just think it’s going to be really good.” Izuku points out again, as if he hadn’t already made his point five minutes ago. “I think you should keep doing it.”

“I don’t have a fucking choice .” Katsuki retorts. “Michael’s word is absolute, the bastard.”

“You do have a choice.” Izuku replies breezily, catching Katsuki’s sleeve to tug him out of the way of some joggers. “After the six weeks is up, you get to decide.”

“Hah!” Katsuki barks, shaking Izuku’s hand off his sleeve. “You think I’m going to keep doing this when I’m no longer forced to? That’s fucking hilarious, Deku.”

Izuku shakes his head again, but his smile still hasn’t dulled. There’s something in his eyes that Katsuki doesn’t like when he glances over at him— it’s the look he has when he knows something that Katsuki doesn’t. Or when he’s predicting something Katsuki’s going to do.

“I think you’ll be surprised.” Is all he says. 

The interesting thing about Michael’s office is that it looks like it should be warm and welcoming but somehow there’s always a little bit of a cold chill to it. It’s decorated with plants and pictures, there are books other than scholarly ones filling the shelves that sit behind his desk— it looks like it belongs to someone with personality and isn’t just a cold room devoid of any feeling. 

And yet, every time Izuku steps into it, he feels like he’s unable to fully relax. 

“Deku,” Michael greets, glancing up briefly from the paper he’s filling out as his door opens. “Thank you for coming on such short notice.”

Izuku steps into the room and mumbles some sort of acknowledgement as he waits for Michael to finish up what he’s doing. There are two chairs opposite of his desk but he doesn’t dare sit in them without invitation. Feeling as if it would somehow be extremely rude to do so. 

Michael is actually very kind and Izuku likes him a lot, but he wears the air of a boss well and it leaves little to no room for challenging him or making any sort of misstep. It has made him extremely successful and is the reason he is the head of the agency that houses the majority of the top-tier heroes. He takes his job seriously and he expects his heroes to do the same, but he’s never been unkind or unfair in anything he’s ever asked them to do.

Of course. Katsuki would disagree vehemently but that’s because he hasn’t learned the difference between something being unfair and something just being inconvenient for him, personally. Just because he hates doing some of the things Michael asks them to do doesn’t mean Michael is out of line by asking them to do those things. The longer they’ve been pro heroes, the more Izuku has been gifted the ability to watch Katsuki grow and develop. 

When they had first started as heroes at the agency, Katsuki would’ve raised hell for any and every task he didn’t personally like— and that was most of them, to say the least. Now he would make a snide comment or two but otherwise would bite his tongue. At the very least, now he would suck it up and complete whatever task they’d been handed, even if he complained through the whole thing. There were times in their past when he’d had exactly zero intention of every following through on anything and Izuku had to all but beg him to do it. 

“Okay.” Michael sets down the pen he had been holding and turns his gaze up to Izuku. It snaps Izuku back to the present as he watches Michael offer him a warmer smile and greet him again. “Hello.”

“Hi,” Izuku replies, feeling stupid as he does so. 

That’s one thing he’s never gotten the hang of as he’s grown up— talking to people he respects. He’s still an incoherent mess around the other pro heroes and he trips over his words nearly every time he tries to talk to Michael. It’s absolutely and completely lost on him that he’s the number one pro hero, honestly. He still feels like the fifteen year old who was struggling to gain control of his quirk and desperately trying not to be left behind by his amazing classmates. He still feels like the kid who kept notebooks full of info on the pro heroes because he idolized them more than anyone else. It hadn’t sunk in at all that he was one of them now and that other people looked up to him the way he looked up to others. He was fairly certain at this point that he would never get used to that. 

“I’m sorry to have you stop in so late in the day,” Michael begins, graciously overlooking how silly izuku must sound. It makes Izuku want to let out a sigh of relief. “But there is something I wanted to talk to you about.”

“Of course.” Izuku agrees, finally taking a seat as Michael gestures to it. 

In truth, he has no idea what Michael could want. The first episode of the cooking show had gone well and Izuku had been copied in on multiple emails over the last few days between Michael and both his and Katsuki’s PR teams— his was now getting some input since he was now officially part of the whole thing, but it was still driven by Kotaro— and there didn’t seem to be anything amiss. It was wildly unexpected how well the first episode had done, but other than that, everything seemed to be going smoothly. Katsuki continued to complain about it every time he saw a new email in his inbox or realized he was one day closer to having to film a new episode, but those fell well within the realm of things that Izuku had expected.

His hero work had been going well, too. He’d manage to close a case that had been plaguing the agency for months a few days ago, but Michael had already complimented him on that so he didn’t think this meeting could be related to that either. 

So instead of spending all of his time guessing and working himself into more and more anxiety, he chose to sit quietly in the chair opposite of Michael and wait for him to explain.

Michael, luckily, has always been a man who gets right to the point. It’s perhaps the only good thing that Katsuki has ever said about him.

“I was reviewing the previous episode of discriminating taste ,” Michael begins, smiling a little at the name and it almost makes Izuku want to smile, too. “And I realized that you had mentioned a playlist?”

Oh. This is not how Izuku expected this to go and certainly not how he would have liked it to go.

Technically it had been Katsuki who had mentioned the playlist, not Izuku, and that was a very important distinction because Izuku had no intent of sharing that playlist with anyone. It was something he played whenever he was over at Katsuki’s and cooking, but usually in those instances Katsuki was busy finishing up paperwork or taking a shower. Izuku was aware of the fact that Katsuki knew he had a cooking playlist— he had come in at the tail end of Izuku cooking before which was the proper moment to see him singing and dancing around Katsuki’s kitchen while he waited for the food to finish cooking of course. It had been deeply embarrassing the first few times it had happened but then Katsuki hadn’t made any more fun of him than usual and Izuku had learned to let go of that embarrassment.

Still, that didn’t mean that he was suddenly ready or willing to share the playlist with other people. It was one thing to share it with Katsuki, it was another to make it entirely public and to let everyone see what kind of things he wanted to listen to. Though, truthfully, it wasn’t the songs that were embarrassing, it was the mental image that he knew they would all paint of him in the kitchen now that Katsuki had shared how he liked to bop around the kitchen to his music.

But if this conversation was heading the way he thought it was heading, he wasn’t about to be given much of a choice in whether he would like to share that playlist or not. As Katsuki had said, Michael’s word is absolute . 

“And I was reviewing the comments on the video,” Michael continues, seemingly unaware of the distress this subject has put Izuku into. “And there are a large number of people requesting to have access to your playlist.”

Ever since becoming a well known hero, Izuku had made it a habit to keep as much of his life secret as possible. Most of it was due to the fact that he still didn’t think of himself as a celebrity so he tried to maintain that sense of normalcy at all costs. The rest of it was because the media loved to take the things he said and did and run away with them, drawing conclusions that couldn’t be further from the truth. So he’d never shared any of his music tastes, or tastes for anything, really. 

“Yes, I believe I talked to Kotaro about that—“ Izuku begins, only to be cut off by Michael.

“Yes, I’ve also talked to Kotaro about it.” Michael replies smoothly and now there’s a particular glint in his eyes that suggests that he knows exactly how much Izuku is going to dislike what he’s asking for but he’s asking for it anyways. 

And suddenly Izuku finds himself in a position where he understands Katsuki a lot more than usual— because he absolutely hates everything about this situation but he understands where Michael is coming from. Their goal is to get more people to view the show and to make them more personable and likable to the public. While the latter goals are more specifically tailored to Katsuki, it could never hurt to try and bolster his own popularity, too. So now he must face the fact that what Michael is asking him isn’t strictly unfair, even if Izuku thinks he’d rather do just about anything else. 

“I understand,” He forces himself to reply, swallowing around a lump in his throat. “I’ll send the link over to Kotaro.”

Michaell’s smile isn’t cruel, but it’s still something Izuku doesn’t want to look at any longer. “Thank you.”

They make brief small talk after that and then Izuku is finally dismissed. He could change his playlist before he sends it to Kotaro, could take out the songs that are already echoing in the back of his mind while he thinks about it, but that wouldn’t be authentic. And if he’s going to do this, he’s going to do it genuinely.

Maybe the general public will be just as uninterested as Katsuki, maybe they won’t dig into the songs or try to read into anything. It’s certainly a long shot, but it’s the hope Izuku holds onto as he pulls out his phone and sends the link over to Kotaro before he has a chance to chicken out at all.

This time, setting up the equipment is a quick and easy process. Everyone has been to Bakugo’s flat before, they have already gone through the trouble of finding outlets and determining the perfect camera angle. There were pages upon pages of notes on both of those subjects that had been written so that they could repeat their setup every single time they came, even if someone new had to step in. 

The apartment feels more familiar to Kotaro now, too, even though he’s only been here once. He had been so intimidated the first time he’d come in that he had been able to recognize the warmth and welcoming sensation, but he hadn’t been able to experience it. He remembers having the revelation that Bakugo and Midoriya were just two people and he was inside one of their homes, the way he would be inside anyone else’s home, but he’d been two seconds away from passing out the entire time that it hadn’t really hit him.

It doesn’t fully hit him this time, either, but he isn’t as terrified as before. There is a sort of comfort to Bakugo’s apartment, and he feels a sense of ease as he kicks his shoes off inside the door. He walks through the place easily, navigating around things. He even considers pausing to look at what pictures Bakugo has framed but decides that’s for a day when he’s feeling braver than today. He was doing good today by just navigating the place on his own, he didn’t want to press his luck. 

The lighting crew moved around Bakugo’s apartment with ease now, plugging in and adjusting lights, shifting stuff on the counter to make sure that there wasn’t anything reflective in the way. They’d had to make some adjustments for all the stainless steel Bakugo had in his flat, but even that seemed to be going quickly this time, too.

Just like last time. Both Bakugo and Midoriya are already in the kitchen when they arrive, Midoriya seated with a head propped in his hand while Bakugo sorts through the ingredients that had been dropped off by Kotaro earlier in the day.

Bakugo had taken his sweet time in requesting his ingredients this week and Kotaro wanted to believe it was because he hadn’t settled on what kind of dish he was going to make but deep inside he assumed it was some sort of retaliation at the fact that he was being made to do this. He had emailed the recipe over to Kotrao just minutes before the deadline, giving Kotaro only one morning to do the shopping and the delivery. He had been lucky that all the ingredients had been available and in stock at the first store he’d gone to. If he’d had toMake more than one trip, he probably wouldn’t have made his own deadline.

It’s something he needs to talk to Bakugo about. Through email. Tomorrow. Maybe Sunday. 

“All set!” One of the lighting crew members calls, twisting one last dial that means absolutely nothing to Kotaro. 

Everyone turns to glance over at them, Bakugo and Midoriya included, but they don’t seem to wilt under the pressure at all. They just smile and shoot a thumbs up towards the two pro heroes, taking a step back to get out of the camera game. Kotaro is watching as their foot catches on one of the lighting cords.

They seem to notice the feeling of the cord immediately, shifting their weight back onto their other foot in a desperate attempt to not pull out the cord. It sends them tipping off balance immediately and Kotaro rushes forward to catch them by the shoulder, holding them steady as they manage to get their feet back underneath them. 

“Are you alright?” He asks after the commotion has died down and they're starting to take back their own weight instead of leaning so heavily on him. 

“Yes,” They turn a beaming smile up at him once they have their footing again. “Thank you so much!”

“Oh, right.” Kotaro feels like he’s stumbling over his words suddenly, not used to being the center of anyone’s attention. The whole point of PR was to make people pay attention to someone else. ‘Of course. Just— be careful.”

The way they laugh is light and airy as they finally step properly over the cord and retreat to where they’re supposed to be. “I will be.”

And just like that, the moment is over. That is, until Kotaro glances over to see Midoriya staring at him with a warm smile and an unreadable expression in his eyes. Kotaro can’t place it, but it makes him feel like he has to look away. 

“Right,” Kotaro says again, drawing the attention in the room to him briefly. He clears his throat. “Well I believe everything is set up. Are you ready to get started?”

“I was ready before you assholes got here.” Bakugo replies, only to be whacked in the arm by Midoriya, the hit accompanied by a withering look. Bakugo scoffs and rolls his eyes. “Ready.” He says instead, shooting a look at Midoriya. 

Midoriya stares at him for a moment longer, as if trying to emphasize an unspoken point, and then turns to look back at the rest of the crew. “Ready!”

The same sense of fate settles around Kotaro as he calls out the countdown. He barely has a chance to wonder what’s in store for him this time.

The episode isn’t live streamed, but there’s still a bunch of people in the chat before the episode even begins. There’s a buzz that fills the chat as the title to the episode loads and the screen starts to shift.

Discriminating Taste

Cooking with Dynamight

Episode 2: Tom Yum Soup

Follow along with Dynamight’s recipe here!

Listen to Deku’s playlist here!

Just like the first episode, when the screen fades from black, Dynamight is standing behind the kitchen counter with a bunch of ingredients spread out in front of him. Deku is seated in the same spot as last time, the same bright smile on his face. They both look at ease, as if this is a normal place for them to be, next to each other in the privacy of Dynamight’s house. The chat is already alive with comments before anyone even starts to speak.

“Thank you for joining us!” Deku pipes up when the silence lasts for a beat too long, his smile never faltering as he slips into the moment. It’s something he’s known for in interviews— answering for Dynamight or cutting Dynamight off to redirect his answer into something more agreeable. It’s something their fan bases have always loved. And just like in every interview, Dynamight doesn’t actually look put out to hear Deku doing it. “We were blown away by the support you guys gave us on the first episode and we’re really excited to be back here to film another episode for you!”

“Are we?” Dynamight quips, but there’s a good natured smirk on his lips that makes it lack any sort of bite.

It’s clear that Deku knows this because he just rolls his eyes in Dynamight’s direction and answers, “Yes, we are.” Dynamight huffs but doesn’t interrupt as Deku continues with: “We heard so many great stories of people trying Kacchan’s recipes and enjoying them! It’s been really heartwarming to hear from all of you and I’m so glad that you’re enjoying this series so far!”

“Okay, okay,”  Dynamight cuts in, waving his hand dismissively. “Are they here to listen to you ramble or to see me cook?”

“Why can’t they be here for both?” Deku replies easily, shooting a sharp smile at Dynamight. “I’m capable of talking while you cook.”

Dynamight stares at him for a long second and the tension in the room seems to grow.

The chat immediately explodes with calls for Kotaro— a fan favorite that they had barely gotten to see enough of in the first episode. And even though nobody could confirm that he was there since he hadn’t shown up on screen at all yet, the chat was certain that they could feel his brand of anxious energy seeping through the screen. 

And sure enough, when the tense staring lasted long enough, Kotaro appeared in the corner of the screen, having taken a few tentative steps forward. He held a hand out in front of him and seemed to be radiating the same sort of discomfort as he had in the first episode. 

“Can we please get to the cooking?” He asks, both terrified and exasperated at the same time.

The chat immediately agrees that it’s a relatable feeling when interacting with these two pro heroes specifically. 

Deku responds immediately, returning to his normal, warm smile as he glances at Kotaro. “Of course, I’m sorry.”

“Oh,” Dynamight says, his same tight smile in place as he turns back to the screen itself. “I’m supposed to announce something.” 

“That’s okay,” Deku says immediately and even through the screen, the red in his cheeks is very visible. He flushes so dark, his freckles almost disappear completely. It’s both endearing and impressive. “You were right, they’re here for the cooking so let’s get to that.”

“And deny your fans what they want?” Dynamight sneers and the chat immediately lights up with people jumping to Deku’s aid. “They were practically begging for the link to your playlist last episode.”

Immediately, Deku buries his face in his hands as he mumbles something that is entirely unintelligible through both the screen and his hands. He hasn’t gotten even the slightest bit less red. The chat, however, has stopped coming to his defense and instead shifted into continued demands for the playlist that had been mentioned. 

As soon as the last episode had aired, there had been a gathering of fans on Twitter and Tumblr talking about it and dissecting the little crumbs of their lives that had been dropped and the biggest topic of scrutiny had been the elusive playlist that had been mentioned in passing. There were theories all over the place about what kind of music Deku would listen to with heated arguments on whether he was a good dancer or the kind of person who danced around their kitchen so terribly it was endearing somehow— even if it was still embarrassing. Those seemed to be the two camps that everyone fell into, nobody seemed to think he had the potential to be a mediocre dancer. There were arguments about how skilled he was in battle and how that surely had to translate to his dancing moves and equal but opposite arguments about how awkward and easily flustered he was and how that also had to translate to his dancing. 

It was widely agreed upon that the fans would likely never know because they couldn’t imagine a situation in which Deku would ever demonstrate his dancing abilities for them. For being so kind and outgoing, he was pretty secretive about his personal life which his fans tried to protect with as much ferocity as possible. They didn’t like the idea of people prying into the things he clearly tried to keep secret so they tried to ask for as little as possible. Which meant that the final decision on whether he was a good or awkward dancer would come from hearing the playlist— he had agreed last episode to consider sharing it so people didn’t feel bad asking for it. If it was music with good beats that were easy to dance to, he would be considered a good dancer. And if it were songs that reasonably should not be danced to, he would permanently be deemed an awkward dancer unless he ever decided to prove them wrong.

“That’s right,” Dynamight is grinning at the camera now, clearly enjoying the extent to which Deku’s ears have turned red. His face is still buried in his hands but it’s assumed that his cheeks are equally aflame. “The link to Deku’s shitty playlist is in the description of this video. Or that’s what they’ve told me, anyways,”

“It is!” Kotaro chimes in from off screen. 

“So listen for yourself and thank your lucky fucking stars that you don’t have to see his dancing.” Dynamight remarks before picking up a knife and reaching for a cutting board. “Okay now let’s get to some cooking!”

“You’re the worst.” Deku finally emerges from behind his hands, scowling. 

“You’re the one who gave them the link.” Dynamight shrugs, rearranging a few ingredients. “Should’ve told them to fuck off if you didn’t want to share it.”

“You know I could never do that!” Deku cries, looking affronted at the implication. 

Dynamight slices into a package and starts dumping things onto the cutting board. “I know that you’re a wimp.”

“It’s called being a nice person .” Deku snaps. “You should try it sometime, Kacchan.”

Before the chat even has a chance to react— the fans in general love the way Deku and Dynamight are always taking friendly shots at each other, there’s something so enticing about it— Dynamight just smirks and replies with a simple. “Pass.”

Deku sighs and crosses his arms over his chest, leaning back on the stool he’s seated on. It looks like a very precarious position but he doesn’t seem to lose balance at all. Instead he just sits there, perfectly stable, pouting at the camera.

“Fine, just tell us what you’re cooking.” He says finally.

And so Dyanmight does. Or he tries to, anyway. But the moment he reaches for the first ingredient, Deku is sitting upright in his seat, leaning across the counter towards Dynamight.

“Kacchan, aren’t you forgetting something?” Deku asks pointedly, staring at Dynamight with a displeased expression.

“What the hell could I be forgetting?” Dynamight asks, glancing around the counter. “I checked all the ingredients beforehand.”

“Not the ingredients.” Deku points out and the chat is suddenly exploding with ideas, clearly making the jump to Deku’s meaning much faster than Dynamight had.

“If you have something to say—” Dynamight grumbles, turning to face Deku. “Just fucking say it.”

“Your apron!” Deku cries, throwing his hands up in the air before gesturing at Dynamight’s exposed button up shirt. “You’re not wearing the apron I got you!”

“Oh.” Dynamight says and he glances around his kitchen as if he had genuinely forgotten about the apron. “I don’t know where it is.”

Deku leans back into the seat of his chair, hands gripping the edge of the countertop. Not tightly, not out of anger, but it almost looks like he’s using them to hold himself steady in his chair as he leans even further back to glance around Dynamight, inspecting the kitchen himself. The fans are doing the same, comments flying into the chat about how nobody sees even a hint of the apron in the background— no pop of green, no edge of it hanging somewhere off screen. It’s collectively agreed upon that the apron is nowhere to be found in the kitchen.

“You don’t know where it is?” Deku repeats, “Or you got rid of it because you didn’t want to wear it?”

“Listen, Deku.” Dynamight sends him a disapproving look. “I might be an asshole, but I’m not that big of an asshole. I didn’t get rid of the damn thing. I even—” He pauses mid-sentence, a thought clearly occurring to him. “Hold on, I know where it is.”

And then, without any preamble whatsoever, Dynamight strides off screen. 

Deku watches him go, eyebrows rising as he tracks Dynamight’s route through his flat. He clearly knows the layout well because he suddenly breaks into a big grin when he realizes where Dynamight is, hauling himself back up to sit properly in his chair. His smile only grows, the edges turning a little smug as Dynamight finally returns back on screen, the offending apron in hand.

“Kacchan,” Deku says, leaning forwards a little as Dynamight passes behind him. “Did you wash my apron?”

There’s a dusting of pink across Dynamight’s cheeks at the question. “Shut up, nerd. It was gross after the last episode. I needed to clean it.”

“That’s very thoughtful of you.” Deku replies, smiling more genuinely now. 

“Shut the hell up.” Dynamight says, slipping the arpon over his head. “I have a cooking show to host.”

Deku laughs warmly, the sound everyone is familiar with, even if it has a bit more depth to it now. It sounds more real, more heartfelt. The chat loves it immediately and is already rejoicing in the return of the apron, calling for it to be a permanent staple to every future episode. 

“Sorry, Kacchan.” Deku sinks his head back into his hand, a position that seems to be his favorite when watching Dynamight cook. “Go ahead and start cooking.”

 And this time, Dynamight actually does. He explains the recipe for the day and the steps he’s taking to peel the prawns, holding them up as he does so, allowing the viewers to get a good view of each step. The camera zooms in appropriately, really highlighting the skill Dynamight has with his hands. He’s very dextrous and he peels the prawns with ease, separating the parts he wants for the broth and the meat he wants to save for later. He takes a moment to explain all the ingredients that are going to be added to the broth and discusses how long to simmer it down in order to get the most flavor. He talks about bashing open the garlic and lemongrass to really extract as much flavor as possible.

It’s gruff, but it’s also very informative and well explained. He pauses frequently to allow people to keep up with what he’s doing and does his best to stand off to the side when dropping ingredients into the pot so that it can be easy for the viewers to see it. 

The chat fills with a lot of personal anecdotes of Tom Yum Soup, but it floods even more with comments appreciating Dynamight and discussing what a good job he does explaining. Any few questions that remain, the other viewers seem able to answer easily. And suddenly a sense of community is being fostered without Dynamight even knowing that he’s doing it. 

Once everything is in the pot, he turns back to the other ingredients and spends a brief moment explaining what he’s going to do to prepare them while the broth simmers. 

And then, as soon as he’s quiet and working, Deku pipes back up. 

It wasn’t that anyone had forgotten he was there, but the last few minutes had been so focused on Dynamight and the recipe that Deku hadn’t even been on the screen for a lot of it. It’s almost jarring when he speaks up again, but the look on his face tells everyone that he had been patiently waiting for this moment, the taste of revenge clear in his tone. The apron hadn’t been enough, it seemed. Deku wanted payback for the playlist and he had been lying in wait the entire beginning of the episode. 

“Did you guys know that Kacchan used to be afraid of thunderstorms?” He asks in what is clearly meant to be a false sense of innocence. The way his smile stretches across his face is far too big to mistake for anything else.

Dynamight’s knife clatters loudly against the countertop. “What the hell, Deku?”

“The point of this show is for everyone to get to know you, right?” Deku continues with the fake innocence. “I’m just helping with that.”

Dynamight makes no move to pick his knife back up. There’s a brief silence where he’s clearly calculating his next move and then he’s grinning and it’s almost as lethal as Deku’s fake innocence. “Deku still cries when he meets other pro heroes.”

“I do not!” Deku replies incredulously, his mouth falling open in surprise. 

“You literally cried, like, two days ago when those other heroes asked for your autograph.” Dynamight replies sharply, finally moving to grab his knife again. 

“I didn’t cry .” Deku retorts, crossing his arms again. It’s the most petulant anyone has ever seen him act and the chat is absolutely eating it up. “I was a little choked up, that’s all.”

“You’re the number one hero , and you get choked up when people want your autograph.” Dynamight emphasizes in a way that’s clearly meant to be somewhat mocking. 

“You slept with a stuffed animal until middle school!” Deku fires back immediately.

“That’s normal!” Dynamight defends, putting down the knife he had just picked up. 

“You still have that stuffed animal.” Deku tacks on, looking smug.

“When All Might called you to wish you a happy birthday last year, you were so flustered that you hung up on him.” Dynamight retorts, turning to fully face Deku now.

Deku swivels in his chair as well, leaving them nearly eye-to-eye. The only thing is the fact that Deku is sitting, so he’s technically tipping his chin up to stare Dynamight down but it adds to his air of defiance.

“You used to participate in my hero analysis. And you have more All Might comics than I do!” 

“You ran away from home once but it only lasted for ten minutes before you felt too bad for worrying your mom and went home!”

“It was your idea that I run away from home!” Deku stands from his chair, but he’s smiling now instead of being angry. “Always a bad influence, Kacchan.”

“You were too much of a damn wuss to follow through. You’d barely made it through the door before you were going home again.” Dynamight remembers, his own lips twitching up at the corners in a smile. “My mom hadn’t even started cooking dinner yet.”

“I came back for dinner, though.” Deku laughs, all tension draining from his shoulders. 

“Yeah, your stupid ass went home and apologized to your mom and then came back and stayed the night like we planned.” Dynamight slumps back against the counter, shaking his head at the memory.

“My mom didn’t even realize I’d run away,” Deku admits, grinning a little sheepishly. “When I got home, she asked me why I’d come home from your house. She knew where I was the whole time. She thought I was just going to spend the night.”

“Jesus,” Dynamight laughs. “You can’t even run away properly.”

“I’ve never been good at hurting the people I care about,” Deku replies with a shrug, sliding back into his seat.

Dynamight looks like he wants to say something back to that when the pot on the stove behind him starts to boil over, the broth making a distinct sound as it evaporates on the flame.

“Shit!” Dynamight flies off the counter and rushes to the stove, turning the heat down and lifting the lid so he’s able to stir it. “If you’re cooking this at home, don’t get distracted by a shitty nerd, it ruins how your food turns out.”

“I don’t know,” Deku replies mildly, “Food is better when enjoyed with good company.”

“I wonder if I’ll ever get the chance to find that out,” Dynamight remarks, replacing the lid on the pot. 

The chat has gone absolutely wild at all the revelations of their history, everyone gripping onto different facts and trying to reconcile that with knowledge they already have of the heroes. The most striking thing, though— the thing that catches everyone’s attention and refuses to let go— is the way that they know each other. They talk so casually about each other and their history together, it’s like they’d never spent a minute apart from each other. And while that’s highly unlikely, everything they do, every interaction they have seems to flaunt a bond that a lot of people didn’t realize they had.

It was one thing for Deku to have talked openly in interviews about their friendship, but it was another thing entirely to watch it unfold right in front of their eyes. Deku talked about a lot of the pro heroes and he only had great things to say about them, Dynamight included. But this was entirely different than his public persona or his well crafted praise of someone— this was real and genuine in a way that no interview ever could be. There was nothing scripted or predictable about the way they interacted. They fed off of each other, bounced their taunts back and forth with absolute ease, each rising to their side of the challenge. But underneath it all was a current of fondness and friendliness that nobody had really ever seen Dynamight display towards anyone.

“The next step,” Dynamight breaks the silence that had settled after his quip. “Is to strain the broth. Ideally you’ll strain it twice, just to be sure.”

He’s standing over his kitchen sink, pot holders over his hands as he clutches the metal stock pot as close to his body as he can tolerate. There’s a strainer in the sink, sitting over the opening of a rather large bowl that was clearly meant to catch all the broth. Dynamight struggles with the pot a little because it’s too big and too hot for him to hold comfortably. 

He’s just gotten it over the sink and lined it up with the strainer and the bowl when Deku leaps out of his chair and rushes across the kitchen. “Wait, Kacchan!” 

Dynamight pauses, just short of tipping the pot and pouring the broth. “What?”

“Your sleeves.” Deku replies, as if that should answer everything. To Dynamight, it seems to. He glances down at his arms and mumbles some curse under his breath, beginning to try and shift the pot back towards the stove but Deku reaches his side before he can go any further. “I’ve got them.”

Dynamight freezes in his spot, twisting to face Deku a little more squarely. Deku steps up to him with the utmost ease, fingers brushing the inside of Dynamight’s forearm as he reaches to undo the button holding the cuff of the long sleeve together. He makes quick work of gently rolling the sleeve up, leaning his head forward to watch his work and nearly putting Dynamight’s face into a sea of green curls. His fingers are delicate but quick, gently gliding up the length of Dynamight’s forearm as he pushes the sleeve up past his elbow. Deku’s face isn’t clearly visible with how he has it tilted down, but Dynamight’s face is visible and it’s almost as red as Deku’s had been earlier. But he doesn’t move to pull away as Deku shifts him to make it easier to reach his other arm.

After a moment, Deku finishes, and he steps back to look at his handiwork. He glances up to meet Dynamight’s face and the moment their eyes meet, it’s like a tangible spark shifts through the screen. For the long moment that they stare at each other, both as red as the tomato that Dynamight had been cutting up previously, the world seems to stop. Even the chat is completely silent as those seconds tick by, nobody daring to break the tension that has built between them. It’s almost hard to breathe, watching the way they simply stare at each other.

Finally, Dynamight seems to regain some sense of self and clears his throat, “Move, Deku. I’ve got hot shit in my hands here.”

“Right!” Deku nearly jumps back, looking almost as if he’d been electrocuted by the spark that was between them. “Sorry! I just didn’t want you to get any broth on your sleeves.”

Dynamight doesn’t reply to that as he finally gets around to straining the broth.

He strains it twice while Deku shuffles back to his seat, eyes wide and cheeks still tinted pink. He rests his hands on the counter and seems entirely unaware of the fact that he’s opening and closing his fists repeatedly, as if he can’t get a sensation off of his fingertips. 

Dynamight manages to finish making the rest of the soup without much input from Deku. He explains the different spice levels and this time seems to take pity on Deku, making it at a spice level that he can tolerate instead of too hot for his taste. Deku watches every move Dynamight makes and comments occasionally but suddenly seems much more subdued than he had been before. The chat is, as expected, having an absolute field day with the entire thing. 

When the soup is finally done, Dynamight dishes up three bowls of it again, beckoning Kotaro onto the screen. The chat is thrilled to see the man since he hadn’t had much interaction this episode. They’re even more thrilled when Dynamight tells him nonchalantly that he’s part of the eating crew now, too, and that he would be getting a dish every episode. 

The episode ends with everyone enjoying their soup. Kotaro raves about how delicious it is. Deku agrees, trying to plaster his usual smile on his face but it sits a little wonky suddenly. Dynamight smiles confidently the way he always does, but the last image that shows up on the screen before the episode ends is of Dynamight staring at Deku’s profile, eyebrows drawn together in what appears to be concern. 

acend_nt: mmkay I know I’m not the only person who saw that blush right 👀 

violetwisteria : that was the most domestic thing I’ve ever witnessed. Did you SEE how tenderly Deku rolled up his sleeves?

nekokun : It’s amazing that the electricity between them didn’t burn down the whole kitchen!

movietalker : Not Dynamight choosing to actually make it edible for Deku this ep 😭💕

Darthdutton : The amount of Kotaro content we have gotten is not nearly enough for my liking

Svetianmickey:  petition to make Kotaro a permanent part of every episode

Cosminowl13 : Okay but did you guys listen to Deku’s playlist? Like half of those songs are about being in love with your best friend!!!!!!!

stultified_nugget : yeah Deku’s playlist is pretty fruity, ngl 👀 

sladydyson : everything about this ep was fruity, not just the playlist!🍊🍓💅

alchemedes : I bet we’d get to see Dynamight blush again if we saw him listen to the playlist

bkell111 : You guys are thinking what I’m thinking, right? Tell me you also think they’re in love

my_pronouns_arent : If they’re not in love, I don’t know what love looks like🤩

luvslove : I mean, Dynamight just stood there and let Deku roll up his sleeves. That’s about as domestic as possible

those_ships_tho : don’t worry guys, I’ll find us proof!

freckles_and_flowers : THAT PLAYLIST IS FULL OF LOVE SONGS. AND DYNAMIGHT SAID HE SINGS THEM AROUND THE KITCHEN. IS DEKU SERENADING DYNAMIGHT WITH LOVE SONGS?

faekacchan : the idea of Deku serenading Dynamight is actually going to be the thing that kills me

cloud_cover : do you think Kotaro knows what he started with this? He must know, right?

Izuku sighs as he closes his laptop, dropping his head onto the table before him. 

He should have known— he did know, honestly— that their fans wouldn’t be nearly as unobservant as Katsuki. He knew that they would hone in on his playlist, but he hadn’t expected it to be so immediate. The episode had barely finished airing half an hour ago and they were already in the comments calling him out for having a bunch of love songs in his playlist. He had played that playlist for Katsuki dozens of times and never heard a word about it but here the fans were, listening to it once and already they were finding the hidden words that Izuku used the playlist to say for him.

The thing is— he can’t even deny that the playlist has some love songs in it. That hadn’t been intentional though, it really hadn’t been. He had just created a playlist of songs that reminded him of Katsuki and what it felt like to be in the kitchen with him. He hadn’t thought twice about it until he’d been listening to it one day while cooking when Ochako had come over and she had asked him why he was listening to love songs.

And, well, he couldn’t overlook that aspect once it had been pointed out to him.

But he also couldn’t bring himself to change the songs on the playlist because he had so many fond memories of dancing around Katsuki’s kitchen to them. 

And so he just continued to listen to his same playlist and hoped that Katsuki wouldn’t ever notice. And he never had. Which was great, because Izuku wasn’t sure how he’d ever explain it if he was directly asked. And for a long time, it seemed like he’d never be directly asked because Katsuki never cared to say anything more than turn that shit off! in regards to his music.

But now that so many people had heard it, now that so many people had already identified it for what it was, he was going to have to figure out how to explain himself.

That, or he was going to have to figure out how to block Katsuki’s internet access and blackmail everyone they knew into never mentioning it ever again.

He wasn’t sure which option was easier.

Chapter Text

“I can’t believe you actually gave them that playlist.” Ochako says, staring at Izuku over the rim of her coffee mug. She’s sitting across from him at the booth of their favorite coffee shop, early enough in the morning that the sun is barely even kissing the horizon and the patrons who are there are also regulars and no longer enamored by their presence. “That’s basically a public love confession.”

“It’s a playlist .” Izuku insists on the end of a groan, leaning back in his chair and covering his eyes. “It’s not a love confession! It’s just coincidental that some— some of the songs are love songs!”

“You can keep lying to yourself all you want,” She replies dismissively. “But you can’t lie to me.”

“What was I supposed to do?” Izuku asks, dropping his hands onto the table top and nearly spilling his own untouched mug of coffee in the process. “You know I can’t say no to Michael.”

Ochako looks at him, clearly unimpressed. She’s spent years trying to teach him to stand up for himself and to set boundaries and he’s certainly made progress but never when it comes to authority figures. If anyone with any amount of power asks him for something, he will bend over backwards to give it to them unless he has strong moral objections. But there’s no moral objection to him sharing his playlist, just the imminent embarrassment and humiliation of the whole world listening to a bunch of love songs that he said he had specifically picked for when he cooks with Katsuki. And the gut wrenching feeling that gave him was so much worse than the ones he’d felt with some of his stronger moral obligations. 

“You could’ve given them a different playlist.” She says simply when he continues to do nothing other than stare miserably at her. “Literally nobody except Katsuki or I would know that it was different. You know I wouldn’t tell on you and do you really think Katsuki would even check ? He’d never put that much effort in.”

It had never occurred to Izuku that he could simply switch out the playlist that he was handing over. It was such a simple idea but it was unbearably brilliant and he hates himself for not coming up with it. He should’ve consulted Ochako the moment Michael had requested the playlist. If he had, she could’ve suggested this idea to him days ago and his inbox wouldn’t be flooded with emails of people pointing out all the hidden implications in his songs. 

“I never even thought of that.” Izuku admits after a moment, reaching out to hold his mug of coffee in case the warmth of it does something to dull the terrible sensation that’s flooding his veins. 

“Of course you didn’t.” Ochako sips at her own coffee, still too hot to take a proper drink of. “You’ve never been good at being deceptive.”

And that, at least, was true. Izuku had done a lot of things in his life— many of which were ill-advised— but he had never done anything particularly underhand or sneaky. He wasn’t good at keeping up the facade, wasn’t good at telling lies or keeping them straight. He was really good at lying through omission, but outright lying was a skill he had never mastered. He considered things like sneaking around unnoticed and hiding in plain sight, but his strategies never included deception. 

“Next time, I’ll just call you.” He whines.

“Next time?” Ochako shakes her head, but there’s a hint of a smile on the corner of her lips. “There better not be a next time.”

“You never know what Michael will want next—“

“No, Izuku.” She stares pointedly at him across the table and there isn’t a single thing about her expression that Izuku likes. He feels his fingers tense around the mug that he’s gripping as a frown tilts down the edges of his lips. “It’s not about what Michael wants. The problem here isn’t that Michael asked you to do something, the problem is that you were basically forced to confess to Katsuki.”

“Still not a confession.” Izuku replies. “Just a playlist.”

“And you can’t confess more than once.” She presses on as if he hadn’t spoken at all.

This time it’s Izuku’s turn to look unimpressed as he stares back at her. “Are you forgetting how many times he’s heard me play that playlist?” He asks. “If it were a confession, he would know by now.”

That earns a sigh from Ochako as she leans back in her chair, too. “You’re right. I guess you’re just going to have to confess with your own words.”

Immediately, Izuku is flying out of his seat, hot coffee pouring onto his shirt and lap. He’s aware that it’s still far too hot but he barely even feels it as he nearly throws the mug onto the table, rushing to grab a napkin and dab at his shirt. “There’s nothing to confess! How many times do I have to tell you that?”

When his napkin completely soaks through, Ochako offers her napkin to him and he takes hastily, continuing to blot at his soaking clothes.

This isn’t a new conversation for them. In fact, it’s usually one of those conversations that’s old and well-worn, the kind that Izuku can almost mindlessly sink into because he’s said his part of it so many times it’s just habit at this point. Usually there isn’t such an electric jolt down his spine when she suggests that he confess his non-existent feelings to Katsuki.

Because he doesn’t have feelings for Katsuki— not like that, anyways. Katsuki is a vital part of his life, he won’t deny that. And earning Katsuki’s respect and his genuine friendship is probably Izuku’s greatest achievement— even better than becoming the number one hero. More than anything else, he’s proud of how far he and Katsuki have come together and how much they’ve both grown. And all of that is fine, he has no problem admitting those things out loud because those are simple facts about someone who means a lot to him.

But anything more than that would be ridiculous. Because Katsuki would never entertain it— he’d probably blow Izuku’s ass to the moon for even suggesting it. And sure, Izuku put himself in harm’s way on a daily basis but that was necessary . Getting his ass kicked by Katsuki for suggesting something like this was absolutely not necessary. It was something he could predict the outcome of with absolutely no hesitation so he saw no reason to subject himself to it. 

And even if there was reason to subject himself to it, he wouldn’t do it because there weren’t any feelings to confess.

Every time he repeats this, he sounds less and less convincing to his own ears.

“Well, every time you’ve said it, it hasn’t been convincing.” Ochako shrugs as Izuku takes his seat. The barista is already hustling at making him another mug of coffee and he feels bad for having both inconvenienced her and wasted an entire cup of coffee. “So I don’t know how many more times you’ll have to say it, but it’ll have to be until you actually sound like you mean it.”

“Have I ever told you that you’re a terrible friend?” Izuku grumbles as the barista makes her way over, offering him the freshly made drink. He takes it and thanks her profusely, apologizing for the mess he’s caused but she waves him off.

“Yes.” Ochako replies evenly, her smile a little smug around the corners. “But you never sound like you mean that, either.”

Kotaro has been in Michael’s office more times in the last few weeks than he has been in the previous years that he’s worked at this agency combined. 

He’s equally terrified and put out by the summons when he sees it sitting in his email, but he knows he can’t refuse. Logically, he knows that every time he has gone to Michael’s office recently, it has been a good thing. He’s either pitched an idea that’s been accepted, gotten praise for how well his idea has gone, or managed to stand in front of two pro heroes and walk out unscathed, despite all odds.

 But he also knows that all luck runs out eventually and he feels like the time limit on his has to be ticking.

He knocks on the door and then presses inside when summoned, surprised to see someone else in the room besides Michael.

Kotaro recognizes Sakae immediately because he’s worked with her on a number of PR initiatives in the past since she’s the head of Midoriya’s PR team and it’s not uncommon for them to run campaigns together since Bakugo and Midoriya are most often seen together. He’s honestly not sure if he’s happy to see her or a little dismayed. 

“Kotaro,” She greets warmly, smiling at him, 

“Good morning,” Kotaro replies to both people in the room, noting the way Michael inclines his head in acknowledgement, 

He steps further into the room, allowing the door to swing shut behind him and takes his place in front of Michael’s desk, waiting for some sort of explanation. He glances at Sakae and she doesn’t seem to have any more of an idea why she’s here than Kotaro does. He likes to think that he hasn’t managed to mess this whole thing up already so it’s not particularly likely that Michael has called her in here to take over the cooking show project. She may be Midoriya’s PR manager, but this project was about making Bakugo more likable to the public, so it wouldn’t make sense to replace him with someone else. 

“Thank you both for coming. I will be both brief and blunt.” Michael says as if he can sense the growing unease in the room. “As you both are aware, I have been monitoring the response to the cooking show and try my best to read through all the comments to see if there’s something more we could be doing.”

It’s really a ridiculous thing for the president of the agency to be doing, but Kotaro would never say such a thing. He had a sneaking suspicion that Michael went out of his way to do this as a sort of break from the other tasks that he was trying to avoid, or the ones that were bogging him down. He had Kotaro, Hanaku and Hiroto on call to sort through the comments and monitor the response to each and every episode— along with each and every other public appearance that Bakugo ever made. They had been doing this for years, there was no reason for Michael to get so involved now.

Part of Kotaro also wondered if Michael’s involvement was a symbol of what high-stakes this project had, but he tries not to think about that because the pressure was nearly crushing as it was, he didn’t need any additional.

“Of course,” Sakae replies when Michael pauses, clearly waiting for an answer. Kotaro tries to shake himself back to the present at hand.

“Is there something more you think we should be doing?” He asks partially because the answer to that question is important and partially because he wants to make it clear that he was listening, even if he was also running panicked circles around the inside of his mind at the same time. 

“Yes, there is one thing.” Michael answers and Kotaro feels his stomach drop to his feet. “But before we talk about that, there’s something else I would like to talk about.” There’s a long pause before Michael finally just puts the question out there. “What do you two know of Dynamight and Deku’s relationship?”

“Of their relationship?” Sakae asks, clearly confused. 

“The internet seems to be forming this idea that they are…” Michael pauses, as if trying to choose his words delicately and the world seems to be slowing to a stop around Kotaro because this is the most unbelievable situation he’s ever been in. “Romantically involved.”

And now it isn’t just time that’s slowing around Kotaro, the entire world comes to a screeching halt. It’s a miracle he’s not thrown straight off his feet, tumbling to the ground in sheer surprise at the words.

He had been the one who had spent both of the first two episodes with Bakugo and Midoriya, surely he would know. It was true that he had gone to Midoriya in the first place for an idea because it was a well known fact that Midoriya knew Bakugo best and was always happy and willing to share that information, but that didn’t mean—

“Romantically involved?” Sakae sounds just as surprised as Kotaro feels and he wonders briefly how she manages to keep her jaw off the ground. “No, there’s no—“

Sakae turns her wide gaze on Kotaro, the end of the sentence dying on her tongue in sheer surprise and Kotaro knows that it’s up to him to try and sound more convincing. And he is convinced, sort of— Bakugo’s demand that he would only cook if Midoriya cooked with him is quickly rising to the forefront of his mind and making him question an assumption that he had previously never even considered questioning. And there was the fact that he purposely had Kotaro get enough food to cook a second batch for Midoriya—

“No,” Kotaro tries to cut off his own train of thought, shaking his head. “No, they’re definitely just friends.”

It really doesn’t even sound convincing to his own ears but he thinks that’s more due to the sheer surprise at the question than anything else.

There had been one time, a year or so ago, that a rumor had spread about the two of them secretly dating. To this day, Kotaro remembers the red flush of anger that had spread across Bakugo’s cheeks when Kotaro had informed him of the rumor, the way Bakugo had nearly blown his desk to smithereens in annoyance at the mere suggestion of it. He had mumbled an array of curse words under his desk and then ordered Kotaro to never ever speak of it again. There was absolutely no way. 

“It appears that Deku’s playlist has a number of love songs on it.” Michael states, clearly trying to offer some sort of explanation for this entirely unexpected question. 

Okay, Kotaro had noticed all the love songs too when he’d first listened to the playlist. But to be fair, Midoriya had stated that it was the music he liked to listen to when cooking. He may have also stated something to the effect that he didn’t cook unless he was with Bakugo but he had never specifically or explicitly tied the playlist to Bakugo himself. And Bakugo hadn’t done anything more than confirm that he’d heard the playlist before. It was a bit of mental gymnastics on the fans' parts to try and take this and turn it into something it wasn’t.

But that, of course, was not out of the realm for fans to do. They often took things and ran— that’s the whole reason he even had a job. If there weren’t people constantly misconstruing information and starting rumors, well, he’d have nothing to do. And he had dealt with this exact rumor once before. He probably still has a draft of the speech he’d written last year somewhere that he could dig up and revise to fit the current situation.

Kotaro glances to his left to see Sakae going through the same mental calculations, already trying to decide how they were going to spin the story to squash the rumor before it spread any further. 

Michael, it seems, can see the train of thought both of them are going down and he halts it before they get any further. 

“I don’t want you to address it.” He says simply. “No confirming it, of course. But I don’t want you to deny it, either.”

“ What? ” Sakae sounds as incredulous as Kotaro has ever heard her as she whips around to stare at Michael again. “You can’t be serious.”

Not addressing a known rumor was as good as confirming it and everyone in this room knew that with absolute certainty. Taking too long to acknowledge and deny accusations had sunk the career of more than one hero in the past, it was practically a death sentence. Especially considering the fact that these weekly cooking shows were going to be nothing but fuel on the fire. Kotaro knew, with the kind of absolute certainty that came from doing this for many years, that the fans would continue to comb through every second of the cooking episodes, that they would dissect every glance, every smile, every touch. This rumor was the kind of rumor that would grow out of control in absolutely no time and staying ahead of it was the only viable option if they didn’t want to get crushed under it. 

“I am very serious.” Michael replies evenly, despite the fact that nobody has ever seen him be anything but serious. 

“Why?” Kotaro asks instead, glancing between the two other people in the room. 

At that, Michael smiles. “I want to see how they handle it. Or, more specifically, I want to see what happens. Because I do not want you to tell them what the internet thinks. I want to watch this unfold.”

“That’s evil.” Sakae says, but she sounds more awed by Michael’s bold decision than upset by it.

It is evil, Kotaro agrees mentally. It’s also social suicide if it goes the wrong direction. It’s the kind of thing that will either play out in a way that lets them all laugh about it or will cause the agency to see a complete turnover in staffing as they’re all shipped out on their asses for the fallout it causes.

This entire cooking show has been a risk and Kotaro is starting to wonder if he’d been right to suggest it at all. 

“If damage control needs to be done, we’ll do it.” Michael assures her. “But until that point, I just want things to play out.”

Truthfully, Kotaro can’t even guess what Michael is thinking. Part of the reason the agency has been so successful since he took over is because he doesn’t take uncalculated risks. Anything he does, he already knows how it’s going to turn out. He doesn’t put his heroes in situations that they can’t handle— publicly speaking. There’s never any accounting for a battle or the craftiness of a villain, but when it comes to public appearances, Michael is very strict. He’s not afraid to turn down an interview request or to sit in and guide his heroes on what to say— or more often, what not to say. Everything he does, he plans ahead of time.

And it’s certainly true that he could have a plan here— Kotaro hopes desperately that he does— it’s just that he can’t imagine what it could possibly be. When the risk is so great, he finds it hard to believe that Michael would take a gamble like this.

“Won’t it be too late at that point?” Kotaro asks, because somebody needs to ask. They all know, but somebody needs to say it, it has to be spoken into existence at some point or it’s going to eat him alive.

Michael looks at him then, stares at him for a long, hard moment and Kotaro thinks that maybe being eaten alive by the question would’ve been better than being scrutinized like this. But then Michael smiles and it’s actually, surprisingly reassuring.

“You’re with them all the time.” He says generously, “And I trust you and your judgment completely. If you think we’re reaching the point where things could go bad, I trust that you’ll come to me and we can figure out a plan.”

Most people would thrive under such effusive praise from Michael, but Kotaro isn’t most people and instead he feels like wilting under it. It seems to raise the bar even higher and it was already so far above his head that he could barely graze it with his fingertips if he jumped. Now it felt like the bar was entirely out of his reach.

It also made him feel like he had to scrutinize every interaction Bakugo and Midoriya shared, had to analyze all the details of their relationship and keep a trained eye out for even the slightest of changes. Because the fans would notice it— the fans noticed everything , so he had to notice it first.

“Of course.” He inclines his head in acknowledgement to Michael and mentally begins to wonder whether or not he can find someone to help him with this while keeping it a secret. Sakae would be more than willing but Kotaro knew that her plate was full with other things at the moment. Being the PR executive for the #1 Pro Hero was more work than Kotaro could even imagine. The number of interview requests alone was astounding, and Midoriya was so widely liked for his kind personality and it just escalated from there. So Kotaro didn’t want to add more to her plate if he could help it.

Sakae is watching him, an apologetic smile on her face as if she knows what it is that he’s thinking. She probably does, honestly. Their initiatives had always been successful when they were working together because they both thought and planned in the same way and they had managed to form a good friendship on that basis. 

“What was the other thing?” She asks, probably as an attempt to spare Kotaro any more conversation about this. “You said that there was something else that should be done?”

“Ah.” Michael’s smile remains as he glances between them. “I wouldn’t say it’s something else to be done.” He turns his gaze solely to Kotaro as he says, “I think it’s time we start making the show live.”

“Already?” Kotaro asks, feeling the same level of alarm as he’d felt just moments ago. Briefly he wonders if there will be a moment where his body just outright adapts to the panic and stops responding in such a dramatic way. He doesn’t know if that would be a blessing or a curse. “We’ve only had two episodes.”

“Two successful episodes.” Michael points out. “And I’ve been told that they required very little editing.”

It was true— there had been very little footage to cut out. The first week Midoriya and Bakugo had fought over the apron and some of that material had been cut out, but last week they’d edited almost nothing. The public seemed to love the way they bickered with each other so Kotaro had taken a chance and left all of that footage in and he’d been absolutely right— it seemed to be everyone’s favorite part. The only thing he’d really gotten rid of last week was some of the time when the foot was cooking just to keep the length of the episode down. But if they were going to go live, he has no doubt that they would find something to fill that time with to keep the audience entertained.

Already he’s picking more stories from their childhood and empty threats.

And honestly, even Kotaro finds himself smiling a little despite himself. There is something endearing about the way they fight with each other, clearly with no ill intent. 

“Okay,” Kotaro replies slowly, thinking through the logistics.

They had been preparing from the very beginning to eventually run the show live, so it’s not like anyone will be caught off guard or like they haven’t been planning for the logistics of it. All the resources they need, Kotaro is already in possession of and he has a full team who knows how to use and access each piece of technology required. There’s no reason that they can’t shift this episode to being aired live, but it’s still nerve wracking.

“You’ll have to let them know that they’re going to be cooking an hour later.” Michael states, but even that isn’t a big deal. 

Again, they had known from the beginning that it would come to this eventually and usually, once everyone had cleaned up the equipment and headed for the door. Midoriya had yet to even put his shoes on. He usually stood at the door and waved goodbye to everyone, being the one to shut both him and Bakugo back in the apartment.

“Right. Well, I’ll—“ Kotaro glances at Sakae and she only offers him an encouraging smile. “I’ll get right on informing them,”

“Great!” Michael claps his hands, clearly pleased with the outcome of this meeting.

Kotaro wishes he could feel the same.

Izuku is doubled over and panting, one hand pressed to the brick siding of the nearest building while blood trickles down his cheek. Katsuki is a few feet ahead of him, chest heaving equally as fast, but he has his hand on the back of a villain's neck, pinning the man in place with the clear threat of an explosion.

It’s been awhile since they’ve had to go all out on a fight like that and Izuku feels just as good as he does tired. His legs are trembling underneath him as he begs them to keep him standing, but his heart feels full. This villain may have fled from them, but he hadn’t caused much damage to the city and there had been no casualties. They had managed to identify the locations of the bombs he’d planted and tip off the police before chasing him down and wrestling the detonator out of his grasp. Now all that was left was to wait for the police backup to come and cart him away.

“You’re a wily bastard.” Katsuki growls, fingers tight around the back of the man’s neck.

The villain, to his credit, looks absolutely terrified. His eyes are huge as he stares up at Katsuki and he looks like he might tremble right out of his skin.

Katsuki has always had the ability to intimidate people like that, but Izuku had never seen it. Even when Katsuki was at his meanest when they were children, he wasn’t scary . There was a difference between being intimidated by Katsuki and being hurt by him and the first was something that Izuku could say in all honesty that he had never experienced. He’d never been able to see Katsuki in that light and he knew that he wasn’t ever going to be able to. 

“Dynamight, sir,” The villain replies, swallowing thickly as he tries, and fails, to keep a steady voice. “I’m really sorry! I swear I am! I was put up to it! You have to believe me!”

“I don’t have to do shit.” Katsuki replies gruffly. “Save your sob story for the police.”

“Kacchan,” Izuku chides gently, finally standing up to go join the other two closer to the end of the alley. 

Katsuki shoots him a reproachful look but doesn’t say anything else.

“Mister Deku,” The villain pleads— and really, he’s more of a kid than anything else. Izuku remembers being that age, remembers all the things that had been uncertain for him— all the things he would’ve done if someone had told him they would help him reach his dreams. “You believe me, don’t you?”

And this is why Katsuki and Izuku are better as a team. Katsuki has no interest in hearing the kid’s story, no interest in whether he’s innocent or not but Izuku does. His heart strings are already straining at the look on the kid’s face, at the way he’s trembling beneath Katsuki’s fingertips. Izuku isn’t stupid, but he’s sympathetic and that has been used against him before. 

“I’ll be happy to hear your side of the story.” Izuku assures the kid gently, “And to look at it fairly. I know that sometimes bad things happen to good people.”

The kid nearly sags under Katsuki’s grip at Izuku’s words and Katsuki sends Izuku an unimpressed glare. 

Before anyone can say anything else, the sound of sirens fill the air and suddenly there are flashing lights at the end of the alley. The kid puts up no fight at all as the police approach, allowing himself to be handcuffed and loaded into the back of the car without incident. The police spend a brief few minutes updated Izuku and Katsuki on the situation of the bombs and Izuku hands the detonator over. All in all, it sounds like the situation turned out as good as it possibly could have and it makes the unbearable ache in Izuku’s legs worth it.

Once everyone has been briefed on where the situation stands, the police take their leave and Izuku finally allows himself to sag into the wall at his side, sliding down until he’s sitting on the ground. He knows that he has to make it home, and he will, but he needs a few minutes to rest before he even tries. 

Katsuki crouches down in front of him, reaching a gentle hand out to touch Izuku’s cheek. “Does this hurt?”

The wince Izuku gives in reaction to Katsuki’s pressing is answer enough.

The frown that finds Katsuki’s lips is deep as he reaches into his pocket and pulls out a small handkerchief he had gotten into the habit of carrying, pressing it against Izuku’s skin and dabbing gently at the blood.

“You dumbass,” He chides as he cleans Izuku up. “I told you that rubble was falling.”

“I know,” Izuku replies weakly, his chest feeling tight at Katsuki’s proximity, as the delicate way he’s caring for Izuku. “But I couldn’t get out of the way fast enough.”

“That’s because you were saving a cat.” Katsuki admonishes, clearly unhappy with the situation.

Izuku smiles a little sheepishly, but he doesn’t regret anything. The cat was fine, Izuku was fine in the grand scheme of things, and they had caught the villain. A few small cuts here or there wasn’t going to be a big deal in his day to day life. There had been a time in his life where he’d felt like he was in the hospital every week for broken bones— he could take a few scrapes. 

“I’m fine, Kacchan.” Izuku reaches up and brushes his hand gently against Katsuki’s wrist, stilling his hand where it’s currently dabbing at the blood on his cheek. 

Katsuki glares down at him, but it lacks the familiar bite that Izuku had been subjected to for so many years of his life. If anything, it has an exasperated and almost fond edge to it that makes Izuku want to smile. 

“You’re lucky,” Is all Katsuki says in response, pressing back into a standing position and stuffing the handkerchief back into his pocket. “Now get your stupid ass up so we can get home.”

Izuku has moments sometimes where he realizes that his life turned out to be every dream he’d ever had as a child and then some. He got to not only meet his idol but be mentored by him, he and Katsuki mended their friendship and they both ended up as Pro Heroes who were admired by the public. On top of that, he had a group of friends that he loved dearly and that loved him just as dearly. If little Izuku could see him now, well— well, he’d probably cry, honestly. That was a habit Izuku was glad to be mostly rid of. But the point remained that little Izuku would be so proud, filled with so much unbridled happiness that it would spill over and drown everyone around him.

And this— this was one of those moments. 

Looking up at Katsuki as he extended a hand down to Izuku, both of them covered in dirt and a little bit of blood, Izuku realizes how much he loves his life. He has the satisfaction of a job well done, the knowledge that the city is safer because of the two of them. 

“Coming,” Izuku says with a smile as he reaches up and allows Katsuki to haul him to his feet.

Once his feet are steady underneath him, they take off towards the end of the alley together, falling into step with each other as they go. The air between them is silent but companionable and Izuku tries not to ruin it with his thinking but there are words in the back of his mind that sound suspiciously like Ochako, threatening to come forward and break the peace that he’s found. 

Ochako has been insisting for a while that Izuku feels something other than friendship for Katsuki, even though Izuku has never said anything to indicate that would be the case. And the truth of the situation is that Izuku has never really thought about it, never really inspected his feelings. Because—

Well, because he knows that Katsuki only sees him as a friend. He had fought tooth and nail just to get that badge of friendship, he wasn’t going to push his luck and ask for more. Even though he had faith now that Katsuki would never walk out on him or leave him behind, there was always the chance that things would take a turn that Izuku didn’t like. And he loved his life exactly as it was right now, so he wasn’t going to do something stupid like inspect his feelings and realize that some part of him was discontent— that some part of him wanted more.

A playlist was a playlist, nothing more or less, no matter what everyone around him said.

The end of the alley opens up before them and they spill out into the busy street, people smiling and waving at them. Izuku is tired, absolutely exhausted after running all over the city, but those Ochako-like words are a powerful force and they’re demanding his attention.

“Race you back to the agency,” Izuku declares, taking off before Katsuki can even reply.

He hears a few choice words thrown his way before the tell-tale sound of Katsuki’s explosion that tells Izuku he has taken the bait. His legs won’t hold out for long, but they should hold out long enough for him to leave those thoughts in the dust.

It’s not uncommon for hero work to pick up this time of year, Katsuki honestly blames it on the weather. Izuku always rolls his eyes when Katsuki says that, teasing him for thinking that villains wait until a certain season to execute all their criminal plans but there really does seem to be some truth to it. Katsuki’s main argument is simply that it’s easier to do things in the summer than it is in the winter— snow shows footprints and slows a lot of people down. Izuku always smiles this fond smile and rolls his eyes, but he never outright denies Katsuki’s points.

Whether he’s actually right or not, the truth remains that they always seem to be busiest in the summer. Which, honestly, is great for him. With a quirk that relies on sweat, running around in the heat of summer only makes him more powerful. It also makes him more tired, but that’s the price of working as a hero. It’s not like he assumed hero work would be easy, it’s not like he didn’t expect to be dead tired at the end of the day. There’s something like the feeling of aching muscles that screams job well done, that comes with a feeling of accomplishment. 

Still, during busy weeks like this, Katsuki feels like he’s barely dragging himself through. It takes two emails from Kotaro to remind him that he’s supposed to pick a dish to cook and that he has a grocery list that he’s required to provide. He considers not replying to the second email, either— though admittedly he’d simply forgotten about the first email, not outright chosen to ignore it— but he knows that it’ll just give him more trouble. So he scrounges around in his brain for a recipe that’s easy enough to make and shoots off the email before crashing. 

Most of the week goes by like that: work all day and barely make it in the door before he’s asleep. He feels like Izuku with the stack of paperwork on his desk that needs to be completed. He barely remembers to throw his hero uniform in the dryer before falling asleep and doesn’t even eat breakfast for at least half of the days. A few of the nights, he didn’t even make it to his bed, instead crashing on the couch and having to wake up early to shower before going back into work.

And somehow, in that state, the days still manage to pass. Somehow, Katsuki finds himself standing in his kitchen, staring down at the bag of ingredients that Kotaro has provided him while the lighting crew sets up all the same lights that Katsuki is starting to get used to seeing. Somehow, it seems, time moves on at a relentless pace, whether Katsuki is moving with it or not.

It’s comforting in a way, but it’s also daunting in a way. Katsuki had been so looking forward to having a night off because cooking hardly counted as work compared to chasing villains around the city, catching crumbling bits of buildings, and carrying people out of the way of damage. Of course, his ideal day off wouldn’t have his apartment filled with a bunch of strangers and a lot of bright lights, but there are compromises that he’s been forced to make and today he’s too tired and achy to really care about it. It’s still an upgrade, and that’s all he’s going to focus on. 

“Did I forget something?” Kotaro asks, leaning over the counter to stare into the same bag of ingredients that Katsuki was currently staring into. “I double-checked the list.”

Katsuki blinks, allowing the moment to come back to him. Kotaro had laid the bag out in front of him, he remembers that. He’s not sure at what point he started drifting away in his tired state, but the ingredients are still sitting in the bag with the bag half open. He hasn’t really been seeing anything that’s in front of him and he knows that he has to get it together. It’s just over an hour of time and then he’ll actually be able to relax the way he wants to.

“No,” Katsuki replies, finally moving his tired arms to reach into the bag and start pulling things out. “Everything is here.”

Kotaro shoots him a worried expression but doesn’t say anything else as Katsuki methodically removes each item from the bag and places it on the counter next to him.

Normally, when they get as busy as they are, Katsuki and Izuku will find a way for them to recharge together. Which essentially means that Izuku will barge his way into Katsuki’s flat and stay there, planting them both on the couch with take out and the latest All Might movie, demanding that neither one of them touches their phone for the night. They always start out with big plans of getting all the way through the movie so they have some time to rest and relax but Izuku is always asleep before the halfway point at Katsuki is never far after him. They sleep the entire night, practically dead to the world with their fatigue, and wake up in the morning sore from sleeping on a couch that’s too small for one person, let alone two.

And yet they both feel more refreshed somehow anyways.

Usually when they get one day off, they actually get two days off. It’s something Izuku had bargained for long before either one of them had hit so high up on the charts and it was something they had both clung to as they’d moved up in popularity. Michael was pretty cool about it, honestly. Unless something unprecedented happened, he had no problem allowing them their two days off in a row and made it clear that nobody was to contact them on their days off which made relaxing actually possible. 

On the second day, that’s when Izuku would usually get them to do something that actually counted as relaxing— or productive. It was always one or the other. A lot of the time, he would bring all of his laundry over to Katsuki’s so that he could wash and fold it all there instead of having to leave and go home. Katsuki always grumbled about it, telling Izuku that he had a perfectly functional washing machine in his own apartment, but he never actually considered kicking Izuku out. It was nice to have his idle company there, even when they were doing separate things and not talking.

This was, of course, when they cooked together the most. After a busy week, one of the things they both craved the most was a decent, home-cooked meal. Take out was great and delicious, but something cooked at home always hit different and tasted better. They would always end their second day off together in Katsuki’s kitchen, Izuku stealing the bluetooth speaker as he sang, standing at the counter and doing the few tasks that Katsuki trusted him with, munching on things as he worked. Katsuki would do the bulk of the cooking and Izuku would do the bulk of the cleaning and together it worked out well, even if it meant that Katsuki had to listen to shitty music.

That was the kind of night he would like to have tonight— just the two of them alone in the kitchen. Not this big production. 

Because they’ve been sent on separate missions lately, their efforts divided, and this has put them at opposite schedules. Katsuki hasn’t even seen Izuku in a few days— not since they caught that villain and Izuku chose to save a fucking cat instead of himself. Katsuki would be more annoyed about it if it wasn’t such an on brand thing for Izuku to do. He’ll never forget glancing over his shoulder to warn Izuku of falling rubble only to see the idiot clinging a stupid cat to his chest, staring above him with wide eyes. It’s not the first memory Katsuki has of Izuku doing stupid shit and he knows it won’t be the last. The only saving grace is that Izuku didn’t come out of  it with any more than a few scratches.

Something clatters in the background and Katsuki whips his head around to see one of the lighting people apologizing as they pick up a piece of equipment that they had dropped. A few people step in to help untangle cords and straighten the stand it’s supposed to go on, but it’s clearly under control so Katsuki doesn’t give a shit anymore. He turns his attention back to what he was doing— what he was supposed to be doing but his brain is too tired to focus the way it needs to. 

All the ingredients are staring back at Katsuki and he knows that he’s supposed to be doing something right now but he doesn’t know what. He scrubs a hand across his face and tries to drag his mind into focus, to get the gears turning as he remembers what he’s supposed to be doing. 

This isn’t fucking hard , he tells himself sternly. He can cook damn near anything in his sleep. It’s just a matter of putting a few ingredients together, he can do this. He’s just so tired and he has a sneaking suspicion that he knows why it’s more tired than usual. It’s because the never-ending well of energy that he usually relies on to keep him going is currently absent from the apartment which leaves Katsuki with nothing to perk him up or keep him going.

“Have you heard from Izuku?” Kotaro asks as if he had been reading Katsuki’s mind, approaching the opposite side of the counter and Katsuki realizes that he has no idea when Kotaro had walked away from him or how long he’d been staring blankly at the counter. “We’re supposed to start in less than ten minutes and he’s not here.”

Katsuki wasn’t worried, Izuku was notorious for cutting things to the last minute like this. He always over committed himself, agreeing to more things than he could possibly manage. It wasn’t at all uncommon for him to be running almost late. If he were going to be actually late, he would let Katsuki know. No matter how busy Izuku was, he always found a quick ten seconds to shoot Katsuki a text updating him. It was something Katsuki used to find unbearably annoying but ever since they had gotten closer, he found that he appreciated it. He would never tell Izuku that, but he would at least respond to the text in some way to indicate that he’d gotten it and he figured that was enough. 

So, instead of answering, Katsuki pulls out his phone and glances at it for notifications, only to see that there aren’t any. Whatever Izuku was doing, he was going to be on time. Maybe on time to the exact second, but on time regardless. That much, Katsuki was certain he could rely on it. He glances back at Kotaro and shakes his head, noting the way Kotaro frowns in clear worry and displeasure. 

Kotaro is actually not a bad PR person to work with. For the most part, he does his best to minimize interactions with Katsuki and to end conversations quickly. He’s never outright said that he’s scared of Katsuki, but Katsuki assumes there has to be some amount of that in there with the way he seems to keep his distance. Still, he talks to Katsuki when he needs to, leaves him alone when he can, and overall he’s been successful with his endeavors to appeal to the public. Plus, it turns out he likes spicy food the same way Katsuki does and he has respect for that. 

He’d worked with a few other PR people in the earlier parts of his career and they had tried too hard to make Katsuki into something he wasn’t, always chiding him for his bad attitude or trying to wash bad words out of his mouth. It had clearly never been successful because Katsuki wasn’t going to be told what kind of reputation he needs to have. He was going to be himself, he was going to defeat heroes, and he was going to say fuck while doing it. That’s just how it was going to go. And Kotaro, for his part, seemed to understand that. So he never tried to change Katsuki, he just worked with whatever Katsuki gave him and tried to give it a positive spin. And that was a working relationship that Katsuki could get behind. 

There’s murmuring in the background and Katsuki chooses to ignore it, moving to his fridge to grab out a drink. He needs caffeine or a slap to the face— something to wake him up before this whole thing happens. He has the next two days off so he knows that he’s at the home stretch now, but that still doesn’t change how long he knows the next hour and a half is going to feel.

The last two episodes had felt like they’d taken much longer than an hour and this was their first time live-streaming, so Katsuki was certain that this was going to drag on. Kotaro had said that he was going to have access to the chat while they cooked and he was playing around with the idea of reading comments or questions out loud to them while they cooked. Katsuki didn’t want to answer a single question, but he knew that Izuku would get a good kick out of it and would love rambling on in response to whatever the fans had to say. Above all else, Izuku seemed to be the most alive when he was interacting with other people. It was one of his favorite things to do and he could practically picture Izuku jumping for joy when Kotaro told him.

“You might have to start without him.” Kotaro says, still looking at him with a worried expression,  and that finally gets Katsuki to acknowledge the situation.

“Hell no.” He replies around sips of his drink. “The deal was that I cooked while Deku was there.”

He barely had enough energy to stay standing at this countertop, he wasn’t going to have the energy to get through cooking the entire meal if he didn’t have Izuku here to perk him up and keep him going. Plus, someone other than him needed to deal with the fans. So there wasn’t a chance in hell that he was going to start the show without Izuku. 

“I understand.” Kotaro says and he almost sounds apologetic. He looks a little panicked, constantly glancing at his watch and then at the door, but he doesn’t outright say how nervous he is. “But nobody can get in touch with him and nobody has heard from him. I’m not sure there’s another option.”

Katsuki caps his bottle and sets it down a little too roughly on the counter. “He’ll be here.”

“But—“

“He’ll be here.” He repeats firmly, staring at Kotaro as if daring him to try and disagree again.

Kotaro never gets the chance because the door swings open at that moment, drawing the attention of everyone in the kitchen. 

Discriminating Taste

Cooking with Dynamight

Episode 3: Nakji Bokkeum

Follow along with Dynamight’s recipe here!

-STARTING SOON-

The episode should have started five minutes ago. Six minutes, seven. The clock keeps ticking and the screen stays black with starting soon scribbled across the middle. The chat is alive with theories already. It’s the first live show, technical problems were practically a guarantee. Everyone was understanding and anxious, the two energies mixing together as words flew across the chat box on the side of the screen almost too fast to read as more and more people continued to click on the stream.

They had started advertising this as a live show only a few days ago, but word had spread amongst the fans quickly. Everyone had known from the beginning that it was possible that the show would start airing live but now that it was here, there was too much excitement to be contained. Nobody knew if there would be any interaction but something about the sheer knowledge that they would be watching their favorite heroes in real time was thrilling. It was cool to think that they would know what Deku and Dynamight were doing at that very moment and everyone was eagerly counting down the minutes, even though they didn’t have any idea how much longer they would be counting since the show was running late. 

Finally, when it’s eight minutes past the hour, the screen flickers. For one long second, it’s just completely black, the words that had been filling up the middle of the screen gone. And then Dynamight’s kitchen fades into view and the speed of the messages showing up in the chat somehow manages to double as everyone starts cheering and chattering excitedly, the energy bouncing between all the fans and only growing with each message that appears. 

Dynamight is standing in what the fans have come to recognize as his normal spot behind the counter. It’s right in the middle of the screen with the stove behind him and the sink off to the far right. The barstools that Deku usually sits at are to the left of the screen, but they’re currently empty. Everyone seems to notice all at once and suddenly everyone is demanding to know where Deku is. 

Blackcatsaregoodluck: WHERE’S DEKU? WE WANT DEKU!

Boolie01 : DEKU! DEKU! DEKU!!!!

“Hi, everyone.” A voice comes from off the screen and everyone recognizes Kotaro immediately, even though he can’t be seen. “Thank you for joining us for our first live stream! Sorry we were a little delayed.”

“You aren’t the one who should be apologizing.” Dynamight says from the center of the screen, but his gaze is focused somewhere behind the camera that nobody could see. He looks a little annoyed, but mostly he just looks tired as he clearly watches someone approach the kitchen counter. “It’s Deku’s fault.”

“I’m sorry!” Deku’s voice comes a moment before he rushes on screen, fingers still fiddling with the bottom buttons on his shirt.

His hair is wet, the curls flatter than everyone is used to seeing, hanging tight to the curve of his neck and ear. He’s hastily trying to button up a shirt that doesn’t seem to fit him all that well, the tails of the shirt at least halfway down his thighs and the sleeves almost covering his hands as they try to work hastily. He shuffles around the counter and nearly trips as he appears to try and drag the stool away from the counter with his foot, his hands still busy.  

“For fuck’s sake,” Dynamight says when Deku stumbles two steps past the stool and almost bumps into him. He seems to reach out instinctively to try and catch Deku, a hand bracing his shoulder and stopping him from going any further, “Just chill out, Deku.”

Deku looks up at Dynamight, eyes wide, but whatever he’s going to say seems to die on his tongue the moment that Dynamight reaches out to bat his hands away, taking the bottoms of the shirt into his own hands and buttoning it with much more ease than Deku was managing it before. 

Deku freezes completely, red dusting his cheeks as his hands hang limply in the air between his and Dynamight’s bodies, his wide eyes fixed on Dynamight’s face as Dynamight leans just the tiniest bit closer to see the buttonholes better. Dynamight works easily, but not as quickly as it seems like he could, dragging his hands down the fabric and lifting the buttons up closer to his face to make it easier. By the time he’s buttoning the final button, a small sliver of Deku’s stomach is visible, but Deku still doesn’t move, completely transfixed.

The chat, of course, goes unbelievably wild.

Myheartslikepaper: You guys saw that right? RIGHT????👀👀👀👀👀

Veekilovesfandoms : OMG?!???? DYNAMIGHT DOING DEKU’S SHIRT UP FOR HIM??????🙈🙈🙈❗

XxXIceLillyXxX : DYNAMIGHT BEING TENDER? PLEASE🥺🙏🥺

Squishy_Princess: DEKU’S FACE IS SO RED OML HE’S GOING TO COMBUST😏😏🔥

“There.” Dynamight says nonchalantly after he’s finished with the buttons. He releases the tails of the shirt before smoothing a hand down Deku’s stomach to flatten the shirt back out. Immediately after, he stands upright as if nothing significant happened, but instantly shoves his hands in his pockets— the only tell that this was an abnormal interaction for them. “Now sit your ass down and just breathe or something.”

Deku stands, frozen in his place, for at least three more seconds before he seems to finally shake himself out of it and moves towards the stool. With his hands free this time, he manages to properly pull the stool out and sit down on it, folding his arms on top of the counter and looking at if he wants to collapse in on himself. All of his movements seem uncoordinated and jerky, something he absolutely was not known for but was understandable given the circumstances. Dynamight still looks tired himself, but he seems to shake the edge of it off as he watches after Deku, a few lines of concern in his expression. 

Once Deku has taken his seat and seems at least moderately situated, he turns to gaze at Dynamight, mumbling a fond but dazed, “Thanks, Kacchan.”

Dynamight rolls his eyes in response and instead gestures towards the camera without saying anything. It takes Deku a long second to bring his brain back to the moment, glancing where Dynamight is gesturing before realizing what it is that he’s supposed to be doing. 

“Right!” Deku perks up almost immediately, turning to glance at the camera himself and clearly trying to shake off anything that just happened, not that the fans have any intention of letting that happen. “Sorry for the delay, everyone! But welcome back! I’m really excited that you’re joining us live tonight!”

Immediately, everyone starts talking in the chat. The conversation had lulled only for a moment while everyone had watched Dynamight button Deku’s shirt, but now that it’s over, the chat is once again flying. The messages are still hard to read with how fast they’re flying, but there always seems to be a common theme amongst the chat. Currently, it’s calling for an explanation.

And that, Kotaro seems to see. Because he clears his throat and both Deku and Dynamight look off to the right hand side of the screen, where Kotaro must be sitting.

“Everyone wants to know what happened.” He says after a moment, and he sounds really hesitant. He quickly adds, “If you’re willing to share.”

There’s a common theory among the fans that Kotaro is more than just a PR manager, but instead actively spends his time wrangling Deku and Dynamight into whatever they need to be doing. He seems to be successful at it, though, because they always show up where they need to be and they seem to react fondly to him. He seems to handle them kindly, giving them space or breathing room when they need it and that seems to serve everyone well. Like right now, where they do nothing more than respond with a shared glance before Deku turns back to the camera. 

There’s a genuine smile that spreads across Deku’s lips as he sits upright again. “Of course, yeah.” He scrubs a hand through his nearly dripping hair and looks directly at the camera as if he were able to see the people on the other side that he was talking to. “Like Kacchan said, it’s my fault we were delayed. I was on my way over and got caught in the rain. I had no idea it was supposed to rain today!”

“I tell you all the damn time to check the weather.” Dynamight cuts in, scowling at Deku.

Deku is entirely unphased, pressing on without hesitation. “So I didn’t have an umbrella with me! I made it here in time but I was soaking. Even more than I am now.” He laughs lightly. “Kacchan was kind enough to lend me one of his shirts so I could change instead of freezing—“

“— and looking like a disaster.” Dynamight adds.

Deku inclines his head in acknowledgement, the smile still on his lips as he concludes. “So that delay was me changing.”

There’s another momentary lull where everyone seems to take in this information, and then the chaos is back.

Rosenshield : Did Deku just say he’s wearing DYNAMIGHT’S shirt?(´⊙ω⊙`)！

Dark_dreams13 : DYNAMIGHT BUTTONED DEKU INTO HIS OWN SHIRT.😃‼️

Elarrk : YESS DYNAMIGHT, CLAIM YOUR MAN!!!!!🤩😏😏😌‼️

Both Dynamight and Deku are looking off to the right side of the screen again after Deku finishes his explanation, clearly focused on Kotaro. Deku’s eyebrows draw together as they keep looking, as if they’re waiting for something.

Finally, Deku asks. “What did everyone say?”

Kotaro’s response is quick, and a little strained. “Nothing!”

Deku glances at Dynamight who returns the gaze, scowling again. They seem to share a silent conversation in the brief moment that they’re looking at each other and the electricity that had been starting to build before when Dynamight was buttoning the shirt only amplifies further.

“Nothing?” Dynamight repeats.

“Nope!” Kotaro says hastily. “Nothing! Feel free to get on with the cooking.”

luciana_27_ : KOTARO KNOWS WE’RE ONTO SOMETHING👁️👄👁️❗

Akettwig18 : TELL THEM THE TRUTH, KOTARO! TELL /US/ THE TRUTH!(ノ•̀ o •́ )ノ ~ ┻━┻

“Whatever.” Dynamight replies with a shrug. It’s hard to tell if he’s letting it go, if he’s too tired to be interested, or if he genuinely doesn’t care. The general population would believe the latter but everyone in this livestream was a fan of Dynamight’s and knew that there was more to him than just the contrary side the general public knew him for. “Let’s just get on with it.”

And just like that, they start to dive into the cooking. Everything settles down while Dynamight explains the list for the night: Nakji Bokkeum. He sets to work explaining how to prepare the octopus— the safest way to get rid of the beak and the chunks that it needs to be cut into. Once he’s gotten the octopus prepared, he moves on to chopping vegetables, explaining his preferences, Deku’s preferences, and how he will once again be decreasing the spice level to match Deku’s tolerance. Deku flushes a little at that, but smiles up at Katsuki anyways and it's actually quite charming.

Dynamight pulls out a few new bowls as he continues to cut up the vegetables, placing the carrots in the bowl to his left and the cabbage in the bowl to his right. It seems to be quiet on the set while he works and Dynamight seems to get into the zone, laser focused on what he’s doing. Deku seems to acknowledge this, turning to glance to where Kotaro is again. He seems to be waiting for something and then seems to get whatever it is he’s waiting for, turning back towards the camera to address the audience through the screen.

It’s strange, how he can make it feel like someone is being personally spoken to even though he’s absolutely unable to see a single person who has tuned in to their stream. It’s one of his personality traits that everyone loves about him, the way he makes everyone he interacts with feel important. 

“Well, while Kacchan prepares everything, do you guys have any questions for us?” He asks, a bold and probably damning offer.

And, predictably, the chat does.

So many questions fill up the screen that it would be a wonder if Kotaro was able to pick one. There is a noise off to the side of the screen that sounds like Kotaro humming as he tries to pick a question.

“There’s a lot here,” He says after a moment.

“Can you show me?” Deku asks, moving to rise from his chair.

angel_of_death512 : KOTARO GO TO DEKU(*❛‿❛)→

Kamillarivera : WILL KOTARO FINALLY MAKE AN APPEARANCE?????👏👏😚

R0AM1NG : PLEASE LET US SEE KOTARO, PLEASEPLEASEPLEASE!!!!💖😩💕

There’s a quiet noise of surprise and then Kotaro clears his throat, quietly mumbling, “Sure, I’ll bring you the tablet.”

And then Kotaro shuffles on screen, pointedly not looking at the camera as he crosses in front of the counter and moves around it to take a stool next to Deku. He offers the tablet to Deku, still not having looked up from his feet a single time. He exudes discomfort as Deku scrolls through the comments, laughing.

“What is it?” Dynamight asks, scraping another two chopped up carrots off of his cutting board and into the bowl on his left. 

“Everyone really wanted to see Kotaro.” Deku replies, lifting the tablet and tilting it so Dynamight can see all the comments that are cheering now that he’s seated next to Deku, even if he looks like he’s trying to shrink in on himself and disappear. 

Dynamight’s eyes scan over the screen, reading a few of the comments before looking up at Kotaro who is stubbornly refusing to meet anyone’s gaze. 

There’s a sharp grin on Dynamight’s face as he says, “Look who’s actually the fan favorite.”

Kotaro stiffens in his spot, finally glancing up to see the matching sly smiles that both of the pro heroes are giving him, his shoulders nearly hiking to his ears. “I can go back behind the camera—“

“No!” Deku cries immediately, flying forward to latch a hand onto Kotaro’s arm and hold him in place. “The fans have spoken! They want you here and so do we!”

Kotaro sighs, sinking back down into his seat. “Just answer some questions or something. Please.”

Deku stares at him for a long moment before seeming to decide that it’s safe and he won’t flee off screen as soon as he lets go. He releases Kotaro’s arm, reaching for the tablet that he had set down in his haste to get to Kotaro. He spends a moment scrolling through comments again while Dynamight returns to cooking. It briefly seems like a companionable silence and everyone starts to focus on what they’re doing. Deku scrolls with one hand while the other reaches for the bowl of carrots that are sitting between him and Dynamight, munching idly on it while he selects a question to answer.

“Okay,” He finally says, finger holding down on the screen to try and stop the chat from scrolling so he can read the question. “I’ve seen a couple of the same questions so I’m going to try and answer those.” He glances up at the screen really quick as he reaches for another carrot, taking a bite and swallowing before answering. “Yes, this really is Kacchan’s shirt, that’s why it doesn’t fit me. I didn’t have time to stop at home or else I would’ve been late. No, I don’t wear Kacchan’s clothes often. I’m not sure why that question was asked so many times…”

Deku’s cheeks dust pink as he answers the question which truthfully had taken up about half of the chat. It was like every other person had been asking it.

The internet had taken the theory that Deku was secretly in love with Dynamight and ran with it, as the internet does. It’s a normal and expected part of being a fan of someone and nobody had thought twice about it. But usually when theories like this ran rampant, they did so behind the scenes. It was almost hard to watch Deku have to confront it, even if indirectly, because he was so heartfelt and kind and the question was clearly difficult for him to answer.

Some people were calling for those types of questions to stop due to Deku’s clear discomfort. Others were taking that as fuel for the flame, considering it proof of the theories. 

“What the fuck?” Dynamight says, finally pausing from his cutting as he seems to tune back into the situation at hand. “Someone asked that?”

“A lot of people asked that,” Kotaro confirms, his arms stiff as his hands sit unmoving in his lap. “Even before I handed the tablet over, I saw it a bunch of times, too.”

Dynamight’s eyebrows draw together before he points the knife in his hand threateningly towards the camera. “Stop being a bunch of fucking creeps.” He demands. “That’s weird as shit.”

tunafishislucianas : F to pay respects to our ship in the chat😔💔🥦💥💔

Lizxie_g : I never knew I needed Dynamight threatening me with a knife until I had Dynamight threatening me with a knife—🥰🔪😍

“Okay,” Deku draws out the word as he reads the chats, the color on his cheeks darkening. “Moving on to the other most asked question, which is whether or not we’ll ever be playing my playlist on here.”

The same anticipation builds up in the chat as they wait for him to address the question that everyone has been wondering. 

But to everyone’s surprise— Deku’s included, judging by the expression on his face as he turns to look— Kotaro jumps in and answers. “We can’t.”

“Thank god.” Dynamight says idly. “I don’t want to hear that shitty playlist anymore than I have to,”

Deku glances over at Dynamight, worrying his lip between his teeth. There seems to be some thought forming inside his mind, it’s almost clearly written on his face. It’s like everyone can watch the wheels turn inside his mind as he contemplates something.

That’s something that Deku is generally known for. He’s very clever, always thinking multiple steps ahead and everyone tends to remark about how easy it is to tell when he’s thinking about something. He jokes that he’s always thinking about something so that he must always look like that, but the fans generally believe that he isn’t aware of how easy it can be to read his thoughts. Maybe not his thoughts , because he’s incredibly brilliant and makes connections that a lot of people overlook, but it’s easy to see when he’s starting to connect those threads in his mind. 

In general, Deku tends to be pretty easy to read. He’s easy to fluster— fans have endless stories of him getting flustered when they ask for his autograph or a picture with him, and he’s even admitted to being choked up when the heroes he looks up to, admires, and respects, feel exactly the same. He wears his heart on his sleeve, crying for the people that are injured in battle and fighting with an unbridled ferocity for the city he loves so much. It’s part of the reason he’s so popular— because he’s so human , despite being the #1 Pro Hero. 

“Have you even listened to it?” Deku finally asks and it feels like the world takes a collective gasp.

“The fuck?” Dynamight glances up at him. “You play it all the fucking time. How could I have not listened to it?”

“No,” Deku shakes his head in correction. “Have you listened to it? Like could you tell me any of the songs that are on it?”

It’s such a bold question and certainly nobody expected Deku to be the one asking the questions that the entire fanbase has been wondering about. But they’re not going to complain about who is asking as long as they get an answer. The collective gasp that everyone took seems to turn into a held breath as they all wait for Dynamight to either sail their ship or sink it completely.

Dynamight pauses and seems to consider his options for a moment before settling on what seems to be the honest answer. “I just assume that I’ll hate anything you like.”

That, at least, earns a small, exasperated smile out of Deku.

“Wait,” Kotaro leans forward. ‘You haven’t actually listened to the playlist?”

“If you’re trying to convince me to let it play on this show,” Dynamight shoots Kotaro a serious look. “It’s not going to fucking happen.”

There seems to be some thought process happening in Kotaro’s mind but he eventually settles on. “No. Like I said, we can’t. Sound guys said it wouldn’t work with the audio.”

Deku seems to visibly relax in his seat.

Celestialstarpowe r: If they just yell, we’ll be able to hear them over the music!(人 •͈ᴗ•͈)🎼🎤💖

spinningjenny: We all agree that we’re going to start the playlist at the start of every episode together right? They might not play it for us, but we can play it ourselvesᕙ(⇀‸↼‶)ᕗ

wtfishoingooon : ALL I WANT IS TO SEE DYNAMIGHT REACT TO THE LOVE SONGS ON DEKU’S PLAYLIST. IT’S ALL I’M LIVING FOR😤👁️👁️🧨🧨 

Kotaro glances at Deku and if there’s something written in his expression, Deku ignores it. The fandom will surely be back to examine it more closely in the future, the screencaps going viral in a matter of hours. But for the time being, everyone is happy to let it slide as Deku starts to scroll through the comments again for some change of topic. 

“Deku!” Dynamight yells all at once. “Did you eat all the fucking carrots?”

Dynamight whips around, his knife clambering to the ground. Deku glances up, the guilty expression immediately on his face.

“Uh…” He clearly scrambles for an excuse but nothing comes to mind.

It’s lucky, at least, that he finished eating his last carrot a few minutes ago. He would’ve been even guiltier if he’d been caught with it still in his hand. 

“What the fuck are you? A bunny?” Dynamight seethes.

“Did you know that bunnies actually aren’t supposed to eat carrots?” Deku tries to deflect. “It’s like—“

“Deku.” Dynamight warns.

They make charged eye contact and the silence suddenly feels filled with that same electricity that seems to always be simmering just under the surface with them..

“Well,” Kotaro leans back in his chair and seems to glance at the floor behind the counter that’s out of view of the camera. “He is wearing bunny slippers.”

The incredulous look spreads across Dynamight’s face as slowly as the red creeps down Deku’s neck.

“I was soaking wet!” Deku protests before Dynamight can say anything else. “I was freezing! I needed warmth!”

“I shouldn’t have let you keep those here.” Dynamight seems to mutter to himself, before speaking more directly to Deku. “Get your ass up. You’re cutting up the rest of the carrots to make up for what you ate while I keep cooking.”

“Fine.” Deku sighs as he stands up from his seat and approaches Dynamight.

AmosPhantom : LET US SEE THE SLIPPERS!!!!!!!!(┛◉Д◉)┛彡┻━┻

“Wait,” Kotaro says before Deku makes it all the way there. “They want to see the slippers.”

Deku brightens up immediately as Dynamight groans, dropping his head back on his shoulders. He sneers at Deku’s grin before walking away to begin pulling a pan out from the cupboard just next to the stove. Deku takes a step back to give him space and then lifts one of his legs up, propping his heel on the countertop and twisting to try and give as clear of a view of his slipper as possible. The slippers in question are about as fluffy as possible, all white except for the eyes, the pink nose, and the pink inside the floppy ears. They look soft, even through the screen, and it’s somehow the most endearing thing anyone has ever seen Deku do. 

More than that, the fact that Dynamight said that Deku keeps them at his place has everyone going wild.

There had been a lot of chatter before the episode started about the love songs on Deku’s playlist and even more theories on what Dynamight and Deku are to each other. There were those who had believed they were secretly dating since the last rumor came out, those who just jumped on the bandwagon, and those who were holding out the belief that they were just friends. But the last group seemed to be crumbling more and more with each passing second of this episode. 

The way Dynamight buttoned Deku’s shirt— his shirt that Deku was wearing—, the way Deku blushed at the mention of the playlist and now the fact that Deku kept a pair of bunny slippers at Dynamight’s house had damn near everyone crumbling and coming up with their own theories. It was probably a good thing that Kotaro was back in charge of the tablet because Deku would probably be a stuttering mess if he were to read everything that was being mentioned. 

“Get your fucking foot down.” Dynamight straightens up with his selected pan in hand, smacking Deku’s ankle and knocking his foot away from the counter. “And cut some damn carrots so I can explain the next steps.”

They exchange another glance as Dynamight reaches out to flick Deku on the forehead. It’s clearly gentle, almost affectionate even, and Deku smiles as he reaches up to place his hand on his forehead in the aftermath.  It’s that exact dynamic that has everyone so in love with them. Everything that would seem harsh with anyone else seems gentle when it’s just the two of them together. There’s something about them that softens each other’s edges, even if nobody can really put that into words. It’s a feeling, more than anything else, and it’s intoxicating to watch.

And then the moment breaks, even though the feeling in the atmosphere seems to have changed. Deku takes up his assigned spot and begins diligently chopping carrots, exactly the same way Dynamight had, popping every fourth one into his mouth as he goes. Dynamight started to explain the next steps in the recipe, yelling at Deku every time he ate a carrot to not ruin his appetite or else he was going to make their food unbearably spicy. Kotaro stayed seated at the counter the whole time, monitoring the chat and reading questions out loud in between Dynamight’s instructions. 

They didn’t get any more moments that nearly broke the internet, they didn’t get any deep, dark secrets. But they did get the two pro heroes melting into their element, their energy rising as they talked over each other to try and answer one of the questions or laughed at something the other one said.

Honestly, that was just as well. Because everyone just enjoyed seeing Deku and Dynamight work together in the kitchen, bickering as they usually do. Everyone just enjoyed seeing their normal dynamic, the one that seemed true and genuine to how they were when they were alone together. And if they all saved up some questions to ask next time, well, that was their secret. 

The episode is over and the lights are out and Kotaro finds that he’s still sitting at the counter, listening to the tail end of a story that Midoriya is telling. It’s not one that he’s telling for the crowd— it’s a personal story that he’s telling just to Kotaro and nobody else. It strikes Kotaro, all at once, that he’s sitting here just chatting idly with the #1 Pro Hero. Despite the fact that he works at the hero agency and has had moments of interacting with Midoriya before, he never would’ve thought the day would come where they were friendly instead of just business associates.

Not that Kotaro thinks he and Midoriya are friends — not that he wouldn’t want to be friends with Midoriya! There’s just eons between the two of them in regards to social status and personality. Kotaro doesn’t think he could ever be lucky enough to call someone like Midoriya his friend.

“You should have seen his face!” Midoriya laughs warmly, eyes crinkling as he smiles at Kotaro.

Bakugo jumps in from his spot in the seat next to Midoriya, a hint of a smile on the edges of his lips, too. “You’re a fucking menace, Deku.”

It’s amazing, Kotaro thinks as he watches them interact, that he’s treated up close and personal to the very thing that is taking the internet by storm.

He had been asked more than once about the friendship they shared and he’d always been vague when answering that question— partially because fewer details were ideal in a PR sense, and mostly because he didn’t actually know much about their friendship, despite the fact that he worked specifically for Bakugo. But now that he’s had a chance to watch them interact more closely, to see the way they really do play off of each other and enhance each other, well, he can see why everyone loves it and why everyone is so entranced by it.

Bakugo is gruff, brash, and hard to get to know. He’s notorious for lashing out with a colorful array of words. It doesn’t seem like he should ever get along with someone like Midoriya— someone who was kind, compassionate, and full of brightness and warmth. There didn’t seem to be a way in the world that these two could interact, and yet Kotaro had seen first hand just how well they worked together. 

It didn’t matter what Bakugo threw his way, Midoriya took it kindly and with just enough amusement to dull the edges of whatever he was saying. He gave back as good as he got, laughed at every sour expression that Bakugo made, and moved on as if it hadn’t happened. And Bakugo— Bakugo didn’t get irritated when Midoriya brushed him off. He didn’t yell and shout, didn’t put up a fuss if Midoriya didn’t do what he wanted. He, too, seemed to take everything in stride, allowing Midoriya to push boundaries that were clearly set for everyone else and not seeming to care at all when Midoriya waltzed over lines that had been drawn in permanent marker instead of sand.

And maybe that’s exactly it, Kotaro thinks. Maybe it’s the fact that they seem to have a completely different set of boundaries for each other than they do for everyone else. And that makes sense, but it also only comes from years of knowing someone and letting them closer to you. That kind of bond comes from a lot of hard work. Kotaro doesn’t know a ton about their history together, just that they grew up together, but he has heard vague mentions of it being tumultuous at times. And that makes more sense with the way he would expect their personalities to mesh. It makes sense that they would fight and argue. So maybe they did, maybe they fought tooth and nail when they were younger only to grow closer as they matured. Maybe the reason they could act the way they did with each other now was because they had earned that right after years of trials and tribulations.

Whatever the tail end of Midoriya’s story had been, Kotaro had missed it, lost in his observations of the two of them.

When he and the crew had first gotten here, Bakugo had looked dead on his feet, barely standing as he’d stared blankly into the bag of ingredients that Kotaro had brought him. He didn’t look like that now, though. He looked awake and alive, his face flushed with color as he glared at Midoriya, who was currently sticking his tongue out and sneering a little. He had steadily gotten more and more energy as the show had gone on, with Midoriya’s energy rising in sink. They had started the episode off in a frantic, tired frenzy and they had ended it on a high note of everyone laughing, 

“Alright,” Bakugo says, stretching his arms overhead. If Midoriya makes a distinct point of looking away, Kotaro pretends he doesn’t notice. Michael’s voice might be in the back of his head, but he ignores that. “You know the deal, Deku.”

“Right, right.” Midoriya agrees easily, pressing into a standing position.

He looks ridiculous, honestly, in Bakugo’s shirt and his bunny slippers. He’s still in a pair of jeans that almost make his legs look small with the large shirt and the puffy slippers— which is impressive because Midoriya does not have small legs at all. He’s adjusted his fighting style to be very incorporative of his legs which means that he trains them frequently and thoroughly— and it also means that he does not have tiny legs. So it’s kind of funny to see him looking like he does as he hustles easily around Bakugo’s kitchen, heading for the sink.

“What’s the deal?” Kotaro asks, relieved to find that nobody needed him to respond to the end of the story that he hadn’t listened to.

“I cook,” Bakugo reaches for a water bottle that he had taken out as soon as the show was over. “He cleans.”

It’s just another example of the way they work together, constantly finding compromises and putting their strengths together. It’s such a simple compromise but something about it still resonates with Kotaro and he finds himself smiling a little.

“Well, I won’t interfere. I’ll help everyone finish packing up and then we’ll be out of your way.” He says.

The only response he gets is an incline of Bakugo’s head but he supposes that’s good enough.

He stands from his spot and it takes a second for him to get his legs under him after sitting for over an hour on barstools, but he pulls it together pretty quickly and moves around the counter. The lighting crew is mostly done packing up and Bakugo’s kitchen is starting to return to normal. One person is holding the door open while everyone files out with cases of equipment in their hands. 

Standing a few feet away is the same lighting crew member who had tripped before, and they’re struggling to pick up a piece of equipment that’s definitely too large for them.

“Oh,” Kotaro hustles to stand on the opposite end of the long, cumbersome piece of equipment. “Let me help you with that.”

They glance up at the sound of his voice and smile a little sheepishly. “You’re always saving me.”

“Well, I do work with heroes.” Kotaro quips easily as he picks up the other end of the object and settles it comfortably into his hands so he can hold it while walking.

They’re looking back at him with a little bit of surprise and a pleased expression. “I guess you do.”

They lapse into silence for a moment while the lighting crew member picks up their half of the piece of equipment and settles it into their arms as well. 

Once they have everything settled, Kotaro says, “So,” before realizing something. “I’m sorry. I don’t think I ever asked your name before.”

“Oh,” They smile at him and they have a faint tint to their cheeks. “It’s Naoki. I’m sorry for not introducing myself sooner.”

“I’m sorry for not asking,” Kotaro says and he means it. Naoki smiles at him again and for a moment, Kotaro just observes them. And then he realizes what he’s doing and how that must come off, so he quickly shakes himself out of it and asks the question he had been intending to ask at first. “So, Naoki, where are we taking this?”

Naoki gestures with their head towards the door that’s still being held open. “There’s a truck outside.”

“Great,” Kotaro starts by taking a few backwards steps, Naoki following him easily.

They work together well and move smoothly as they carry the equipment towards the door, navigating through the door and around the turn in the hallway with more ease than Kotaro could’ve possibly expected. They even navigated the stairs pretty easily, with Kotaro bearing most of the weight while Naoki was in charge of most of the steering. They chat idly over the  machine between them and Kotaro finds that they’re actually great company, surprising a laugh or two out of him.

Once they finally make it outside and load the equipment into the truck, Naoki waits for Kotaro as he jumps down from the truck.

“Thanks for the help,” They say, smiling up at him. “Hero.”

And the only thought Kotaro has at that moment is that he’s glad to know they’ll be working together again.

Izuku waves goodbye to the last of the crew members as he stands at the door, ready to close it behind everyone once they finish piling into the elevator. He smiles warmly as they wave back but the moment the elevator doors close behind them, he slumps against the door, letting out a sigh.

“Thank fuck.” Katsuki murmurs from his spot on the couch. He already has his feet propped on the table and his head leaning back against the cushions of the couch. He has the remote in his hand but hasn’t turned the TV on yet. “That was the longest hour I’ve ever lived.”

Izuku closes the door softly, padding across the room to drop down on the couch next to Katsuki. “Don’t be so dramatic, Kacchan, It wasn’t that bad.”

Katsuki grumbles something next to him and tosses the remote into Izuku’s lap. “Pick a damn show.”

Their night had started off hectic, with Izuku sprinting in the door and creating a puddle in the entryway mere minutes before the show was supposed to start. But it had ended nice. Izuku genuinely enjoyed Kotaro and his presence, and he liked seeing that Kotaro was starting to warm up to them a little. He looked less like he wanted to stand in the corner with his head down now, which had to be improvement. It made Izuku smile to think about, honestly. He liked the idea of breaking Kotaro out of his shell and really getting to know him. He also liked the idea that Kotaro was getting to see the real Katsuki. 

It would certainly help Kotaro do his job, but that wasn’t even the reason it made Izuku happy. He just knew a side of Katsuki that nobody else seemed to know and it really warmed his heart when other people got to see the side of him that was softer, funnier, a little more laid back. There was a whole side to Katsuki that Izuku cherished and as much as he didn’t like to share that side with anyone else, he didn’t like other people to have a wrong opinion of Katsuki, either. 

Izuku flips through the channels on the TV, not really interested in what’s on. He and Katsuki had been run absolutely ragged lately. Izuku hadn’t even had time to see Katsuki, barely sending a text to check in on him at night. Of course, he kept up to date on all of Katsuki’s missions and how they had gone, so he knew that Katsuki wasn’t injured , but he could also imagine how completely exhausted he was, too. It sounded like Katsuki had been to every corner of the city over the last week and had put in more than his fair share of hours. Izuku wasn’t much different, but they never seemed to overlap what corner of the city they were in.

“What do you want to watch?” Izuku asks, turning to look at Katsuki only to find him with his eyes closed, his breathing slowing.

Izuku smiles a little to himself as he stands up from the couch and heads to the basket that holds the blankets, drawing one out. There’s no point in trying to convince Katsuki to move to bed, he’s cranky if his sleep is disturbed. And izuku has slept on this couch enough times to know that it’s comfortable enough, so he’s not worried. They have the next two days off together, so Katsuki will have time to recover if he wakes up with a sore back tomorrow.

He carries the blanket over and drapes it gently over Katsuki, gently tucking the edges around Katsuki’s shoulders. Usually he’s the one to fall asleep first, to have the feeling of Katsuki draping a blanket over him, but Izuku kind of likes it this way, He likes having the privilege of brushing the longer strands of Katsuki’s bangs off of his forehead, smiling down at him gently,

He especially likes the moment Katsuki stirs, blinking blearily up at him as he asks, “You’re staying, right?”

“Yeah,” Izuku says easily. “I just have to lock up.”

And just like that, all the chaos from earlier in the day is forgotten as he falls back into a routine he knows well, one that warms his heart. One that he wouldn’t give up for anything.

Chapter Text

The next morning starts the way Katsuki would’ve liked last night to go: just him, Izuku and absolutely no timeframe in which they needed to do something.

Katsuki wakes up first— he’s always been the earlier riser between the two— but the exhaustion from the schedule they’ve been working lately keeps him in place, silently scrolling through his phone and adjusting to stretch his legs out. Izuku looks peaceful next to him on the couch, hair an absolute wreck from drying smashed underneath his head. It’s endearing, somehow, in a way that only that damn nerd could possibly be. He looked ridiculous, mouth partially open, one arm and leg flung out from underneath the blanket. He looked ridiculous , but he pulled it off anyways and Katsuki found that he wanted to just take a second to cherish this moment.

It wasn’t something he did often, and it wasn’t something he ever verbalized , but there were moments in his life that he found especially precious, moments he wanted to commit to memory, to hold onto forever. This, it turned out, was one of those moments: back aching like a motherfucker, legs still a little cramped,  but warm in a cozy way underneath the blanket with Izuku sleeping peacefully by him. 

Being a hero had always meant being in the public eye and that was something Katsuki hadn’t ever minded that much. He’d drawn a few hard lines early on in his career and glared at any reporter who dared to try and cross one of his lines until they backed down, but other than that he really didn’t mind. He wasn’t exactly a— a people person , as Izuku liked to call it with one of those stupidly fond laughs that he did, but he liked the public well enough anyways. They were loud and annoying, but the more Katsuki had grown up, the more years of being a hero he had under his belt, the more he started to fight to protect the public because he liked it, not just because it was the other part of his job that came with winning a battle. 

And yeah, he’d openly admit how fucking cool it was to see people casually around town wearing his merch. That would never get old. He would never stop getting a kick out of kids pretending to be him, holding their hands out with imaginary explosions in their palms. It was a completely different thrill than the thrill of battle, but he loved it all the same. 

But even though he was okay with being in the public, even though he had expected most of what came with being a pro hero, he liked the quiet moments like this the most— the ones that the camera would never be privy to. He liked the moments where he could be Katsuki instead of Dynamight, the moments where he could say fuck as much as he wanted without getting scolded for it. The scolding, of course, didn’t stop him, but when he was just Katsuki, he didn’t get scolded at all. 

He liked these moments most of all— the moments where they were together, Katsuki and Izuku. The moments where he was just Katsuki, were great, but the moments where he had Izuku with him as well were the best. Because being Katsuki was one thing, but being Katsuki and Izuku was another thing— the way their names always went together, the way they always went together. It was two halves of one greater whole and Katsuki always felt the weight of that truth the most in moments like this. 

It had taken him a long time to admit it to himself and even longer to admit it to Izuku, but he was glad that the annoying bastard had known him his entire life, had stuck steadfastly by his side, had made being there for Katsuki his first career, his hero work as a secondary option. He liked when Izuku was there in these moments because Izuku was the one who saw Katsuki for who he really was. Sometimes, Katsuki didn’t feel like he could be just Katsuki unless someone was there to see him— and that’s where Izuku came in.

Izuku who saw him for all of his faults and never wavered. Izuku who had endured his worst and came out the other side despite the scathing remarks, the burns, the hate. Izuku who shined brighter than the sun in every situation ever. Fucking Izuku who smiled in spite of everything, his hand permanently extended to Katsuki, ready to haul him back to his feet.

Izuku, who had been the goddamn center of Katsuki’s world since they were children. 

“Kacchan,” Izuku mumbles from his pillow, eyes still closed. There’s the soft edge to his voice that only Katsuki knows. Only Katsuki is allowed to see the soft, wholly unguarded side of Izuku— Izuku had said so himself once. No matter how much he trusted his best friends, he trusted Katsuki more. The thought took his breath away. “I can feel your thoughts from over here. It’s too early for this.”

Izuku, who could read him better than anyone else, who would call him out on his shit, who would give him a million and one chances to change.

“Shut the hell up,” Katsuki replies, but there’s not even an ounce of bite in it. He tells himself it’s because it’s the early morning, because he’s still too exhausted to put himself into that angry headspace. It’s wrong, but he doesn’t let himself examine that, even though he already knows exactly what he’ll find if he does. “It’s too early for your shit.”

Izuku huffs a quiet laugh before finally blinking his eyes open and squinting over at Katsuki, his already uncovered arm reaching up to rub his eyes. “Good morning.”

Katsuki watches him closely for a minute, looks at the scars that litter his hands and arms, at the sharp angle to his jaw that developed as he grew, hidden away under the baby fat of his cheeks for so many years. It strikes him sometimes, the way he hardly even noticed some of the changes in Izuku because he watched them happen so gradually, saw the damn nerd every step of the way. He forces himself to step back sometimes, to really assess Izuku and notice all the things that had been slipping completely under his radar. It always surprises him how different Izuku is— how he hasn’t actually changed at all because he’s still izuku, strong and unwavering underneath it all. 

“Mornin’”, Katsuki grumbles back, turning back to his phone.

It didn't bother Izuku, he knew that it wouldn’t. 

Instead, Izuku just reaches for his own phone and starts looking at notifications. 

From the very beginning, Katsuki hadn’t been particularly active on social media. He couldn’t really give a shit less what the public had to say about him— that was why he had Kotaro and the whole PR team. In his free time, he liked to get away from the public, so he had never really delved into it. Izuku had been the exact opposite— seeing social media as an additional way to connect with his fans and keep them updated on the things he was doing. He tweeted so much stupid, mundane shit. Katsuki only knew because Izuku would show him, planting his useless ass at the counter and reading Katsuki all the replies he got to his tweets while Katsuki did all the work and cooked. 

This, of course, had only exploded since their cooking show had started to gain some traction.  Now people felt like they knew him and Izuku better, felt like they were more personable, more approachable. It seemed like a whole slew of new people had gotten the courage to reach out to Izuku and start conversations with him. From what Katsuki had understood, his notifications had been blowing up before but that was somewhat nothing compared to the situation now. 

As if Izuku could sense his train of thought— and he probably could, he’d always had an uncanny ability to do exactly that— he puts down his phone and glances up to meet Katsuki’s gaze. If he has any thoughts about the fact that Katsuki was already looking at him, he doesn’t say them. Instead, he just says, “I think Kotaro is going to start actually promoting the cooking show today.”

“Great.” Katsuki says, and it’s both sarcastic and not.

He can’t deny that the cooking show hasn’t turned out to be nearly as big of a pain in the ass as he expected it to be. Kotaro was pretty cool and the lighting and sound crew got in and out of his apartment in a timely manner. It was normal for him to be cooking dinner anyways, so it wasn’t like it was the biggest change that could’ve been made to his routine. It was weird when people stopped him on the street to tell him they had tried and enjoyed his recipes, but it was also kind of nice. Yesterday’s episode had been the weirdest yet, though, with the fans watching and reacting live. He hadn’t been the one in charge of the tablet and he hoped to god that it would always stay that way, but from what he could tell, it had been hard to manage— the chat had been near impossible to keep up with.

Of course, Izuku had loved it. It had been the last thing he’d been talking about last night before Katsuki fell asleep. 

“It is great.” Izuku emphasizes with a smile, finally being the first one to press into a sitting position and stretching his arms overhead. “I think this show has already done wonders for your popularity, and that can only continue to be the case if more people watch it.” He pauses for a second, his smile taking on that fond edge that it has when he talks to Katsuki specifically— not that Katsuki has ever noticed it. “I’m really glad that people are starting to see you the way I’ve always seen you, Kacchan.”

“I don’t give a shit how the public sees me,” Katsuki says the same thing he’s always said, the line sounding more and more hollow every time he repeats it. “They don’t need to like me for me to save them.”

“No,” Izuku agrees, the way he always had, his fond smile still in place. “But I know that it matters to you, even if you won’t admit it.”

“Okay,” Katsuki replies, drawing out the word as he stands up. “It’s too early for that bullshit.” Izuku laughs warmly as Katsuki yanks the blanket off of his lap. “Besides, it’s not the public’s approval I want.”

‘It’s mine, right?” Izuku teases as he stands up, too, automatically trailing Katsuki into the kitchen. “I know, having the approval of the number one hero is definitely something to seek—“

It is Izuku’s approval, but it has nothing to do with the fact that Izuku is the number one hero. It has to do with the fact that Izuku pushes Katsuki to be the best version of himself, the fact that Izuku doesn’t give up on him, the fact that he sees something worthwhile in Katsuki. It’s the fact that Izuku is approving of Katsuki and not Dynamight, that Izuku is looking at the real version of him inside and passing judgment on that. It is Izuku’s approval that he wants, but he’ll be damned before he ever admits that out loud.

“Shut the hell up,” Katsuki grumbles, swatting at Izuku next to him, “Or you’re eating cereal for breakfast.”

Izuku whines immediately, throwing himself dramatically over the countertop as he talks about how starved he is, how close to death, how he’s withering away as they speak. It’s stupid, ridiculous, absolutely unbearable, and it’s exactly the morning Katsuki needed.

Truthfully, Kotaro isn’t sure he even wants to advertise the cooking show. 

Both Midoriya and Bakugo’s die hard fans had found their way to the show from episode one, and they seemed to be spreading the news by word of mouth without any assistance from Kotaro or the rest of the PR team. It was one of the best things about fans in regards to his job, but it was also one of the worst when they latched on to something incorrect or something that they weren’t supposed to know. So, Kotaro kept track of Twitter trends, of news articles that mentioned Bakugo— he knew everything that was being said about the heroes at all times. And the amount of things he’d seen said about the show in the last few weeks had certainly taken off more than he ever expected it to. 

This, of course, had been reflected in the way their first live stream had gone. The chat was going wild, the questions were flooding in, and even Kotaro and Midoriya combined weren’t enough to field every comment or see everything that had been said. With the amount of traction that the show had already gained, it was more than feasible that the fans would do all the advertising necessary and that this would grow beyond his wildest dreams without Kotaro doing so much as lifting a finger.

So no, Kotaro didn’t want to advertise the show. Because the fans were doing a good enough job already, because the public had already started to demonstrate the desired reaction, because— 

Because it had only been three episodes and he was already struggling to keep both Bakugo and Midoriya from finding out about all the theories about their relationship. 

It was absolutely ridiculous that what had started as a publicity event had turned into this. And so quickly. They were cooking and people were musing about the deeper and more private sides of their relationship. And sure, Kotaro knew that people liked to gossip. It was a fundamental principle in marketing, something that could often be used to their advantage. But this was doing exactly the opposite. 

He was starting to warm up to both of them— Bakugo more than Midoriya because Midoriya was not hard to warm up to at all— and he didn’t want to damage the relationship he was starting to build with them. Even though he knows that he isn’t the one who has these theories, he fears what Bakugo’s reaction would be and how it would put that professional rift between them again when they were just starting to form a personal relationship. Because normally it would be his job to shut the rumor down, to nip it in the bud and squash it before it even started. Normally, the moment Kotaro even heard a hint of a rumor like that, he was on it. But he had been specifically ordered to leave the rumor alone this time and if there was one thing that could be said about rumors like this, it was that they were a wildfire— just a small spark and suddenly everything would be aflame and there was absolutely nothing anybody could do to control it. 

Kotrao had only experienced a few times in his career where he’d been forced to do damage control on something like this and besides his current project, those were the hardest things he’d ever tackled. At the time, he’d always felt like a complete failure,  but now that he had more experience he knew that what semblance of control he had managed to get back in those situations was the absolute most he could’ve possibly gotten back. It was a lose-lose situation and in this case he wasn’t just risking losing Bakugo’s reputation— there wasn’t that much to lose to start out with— but he was risking losing the— the— friendship he was starting to build with him. And it was terrifying— both to think of himself as Bakugo’s sort-of friend, and to think of losing that sort-of friendship.

Essentially, he has no solid faith that he’s off the list of people that Bakugo would murder if they wronged him. He might be further down the list than he was before, but he definitely didn’t feel like his name had been scratched clean off of it. 

Honestly, Kotaro really liked both of them. Midoriya had said over and over again in interviews and even private conversations that Bakugo was nothing like the harsh, mean person he always seemed to be. It was one of those things that Midoriya was always adamant about, cutting off interviewers if they started to say something contradictory. And for a while, Kotaro had reserved his judgment. It wasn’t that he flat out didn’t believe Midoriya, but he had yet to spend any time with Bakugo that wasn’t entirely professional with that cold, calculated distance between them. But now that he has actually spent some time with the number two hero, he could admit that Midoriya was right about two things: Bakugo is actually a lot different than the way the public perceives him, and he’s actually a really good cook. 

And because he’s getting to the point of being able to talk to both of them without that usual coil of anxious fear in his stomach, because he’s starting to be able to smile more easily in front of them and to not be afraid to crack a small joke— well, he doesn’t want to give that up. 

And it may be entirely selfish of him—his job is easier if he gets along with them, he has less anxiety walking around the office— the benefits to his career are endless. But it has nothing to do with that and everything to do with the fact that he is starting to just genuinely enjoy spending time with them. It’s something Kotaro would never have thought was possible, but he looked forward to showing up to Bakugo’s house, to watching the two of them tease each other easily. He was almost able to walk to the counter when bidden without feeling like he was going to trip over his feet or swallow his tongue as he tried to think of something to say. 

But Michael had a point, which was that the show was intended to change the general public’s opinion of Bakugo and if they didn’t advertise it, nobody other than his already existing fans would find it. Well, not enough people outside of his usual fanbase, anyways. And his already existing fans clearly liked him as he was, or else they wouldn’t be his fans. So refusing to advertise was something that Kotaro just couldn’t do, no matter how much he would like to. And he would really like to. But he has a job to do, despite his personal feelings on the matter. 

Which is exactly how he found himself sitting at his own desk with Hanaku and Hiroto behind him and Michael standing across the desk from all three of them. 

Kotaro knew what he had to do, and he was going to do it, even if he knew that there wouldn’t be a single willing participant— himself included. 

The sound of Midoriya’s music playing through the kitchen cuts off abruptly as his phone starts ringing instead, interrupting the signal to the bluetooth speaker. He had spent a long time debating whether or not he wanted to play his playlist for Katsuki again, now that he saw it in the same light that everyone else had seen it in all this time. But in the end he had decided to— partially to see if Katsuki actually paid any attention to it and partially because it would feel wrong for him to play anything else. That was the playlist he associated with Katsuki and cooking, and changing that now felt dishonest, no matter how terribly his heartbeat thumped in his throat or how strongly his fingers trembled as he tried to help even the tiniest bit. 

In the end, it turns out that Katsuki didn’t listen to it anyways. He hummed idly to it, responding to all the chatter that Izuku used to fill up the silence— and drown out the words in the beginning because he was too afraid of Katsuki actually listening to it, even if part of him wanted that. But Katsuki never commented on the words, never sang along to the lyrics, so Izuku was left to assume that he didn’t actually listen to it.

He felt both relieved and disappointed at the revelation. 

It was exactly the same way he’d felt when he’d first listened to his playlist again and realized that he had actually created a playlist full of love songs and then advertised it to half the country, practically dedicating it publicly to Katsuki. 

Still, even though Katsuki didn’t listen to the music, it didn’t stop him from seeming to also be relieved when it finally turned off. 

“Thank fuck,” Katsuki mumbles, head pillowed on his arms next to Izuku. 

“You were humming to it!” Izuku says on the end of a laugh and with a roll of his eyes before answering the phone call. “Good morning, Michael.”

That gets Katsuki to whip his head up off the counter, his eyes narrowing at Izuku as he clearly tries to hear the other end of the conversation. He mouths the words we’re off today to Izuku, who nods, even though he already knows that. If they weren’t off today, they wouldn’t still be sitting at Katsuki’s counter, starting the day at a lazy pace and just relishing in each other’s company. If they weren’t off today, the dishes would be done and they’d be out of their wrinkled clothes from the night before. Not that it really matters in the grand scheme of things, they’re ultimately at Michael’s mercy and will have to agree to whatever it is he’s calling to suggest, no matter what it is or if it involves them to work on their day off.

And by they , Izuku means that he will agree to it for both of them, smile sheepishly at Katsuki and then promise him whatever he wants if he does this and doesn’t complain directly to Michael’s face. Katsuki would grumble, rolling his eyes and thrusting a finger in Izuku’s direction as he declared you owe me! And then he would spend the whole day complaining in Izuku’s ear, mumbling things just quietly enough under his breath that Michael either didn’t hear or was able to pretend he didn’t care and honestly, that was good enough for Izuku. They would get through whatever task it was, come back to Katsuki’s place, crash on the couch and inevitably get take-out because Katsuki would be too tired to cook and too busy reminding Izuku that he has a favor to cash in whenever he feels like it, and Izuku can’t refuse what he asks for, as if izuku ever would.

Katsuki never cashed in on those promises and sometimes Izuku wonders if he’s saving them up for something big. 

“Midoriya,” Michael greets warmly on the other end of the line. He sounds significantly more awake than Katsuki looks and Izuku feels, but he supposes that Michael has been at work for awhile already. “Are you with Bakugo?”

“Yes,” Izuku answers, eyes straying to meet Katsuki’s gaze again.  It’s not like he needs much of an excuse to look at Katsuki, to meet his eyes, but Izuku will take an excuse when one presents itself to him. “He’s right here. Do you need to talk to him?”

“No,” Michael answers. “This just pertains to both of you. If you’re with him, it just saves me a phone call because you can tell him everything.”

“Oh.” Izuku says after a moment, and he can see the confusion in the way Katsuki scrunches his eyebrows together in his attempt to continue to listen. “Okay.”

There’s a brief pause after that when Izuku wonders if he’s supposed to say something or if he’s just supposed to wait until Michael tells him what he called for in the first place. Katsuki is staring at Izuku with an eyebrow raised now, leaning a little closer because he can’t hear anything on the other end. Their eyes catch and hold, and for a moment, Izuku forgets that there’s anything else he could possibly be doing. There’s some shuffling on the other end of the phone that draws Izuku’s attention back and makes him think that Michael is moving papers around, so he decides to wait until the sound ends.

By then, Michael seems to have figured out how to address the subject he called for. “So, as you most likely know, there is to be advertisement for Discriminating Taste .”

“Right,” Izuku had known that was the case. He didn’t have any idea what type of advertisement they were planning on doing— that was not his department— but he did know that it was coming.

He wasn’t actually sure if he and Katsuki had been told what type of advertising there would be for the show, but if they had, he hadn’t heard it. And if he hadn’t heard it, there wasn’t a chance on Earth that Katsuki had heard it. He never listened to anything ancillary that Michael told them, always relying on Izuku to listen closely and then relay only the important parts to him later. He barely even skims the emails sent to them, citing that he always has a nerd chattering away in his ear, so all relevant information will make it to him eventually. 

Izuku knows that this information wasn’t given in an email though. He distinctly remembers the way Katsuki had stiffened next to him as they stood in Michael’s office, the way he had reached for Katsuki’s arm to try and cut off any rebuttal before it was spoken. Michael hadn’t said much, just that he intended to grow their audience as large as possible. And then he left it at that. It was something Izuku had noticed that Michael did— leaving things purposefully vague so he never ended up going back on his word. 

 It was a smart move in regards to the public and it was something that Izuku had tried to use himself during interviews, but it was frustrating when it came to more personal interactions.

But that’s what made Michael successful as the head of the agency that housed the top heroes— he knew how to play the game from all angles. He earned enough respect from the heroes to have them willing to follow his orders, he knew how to talk to the public and almost never received backlash because he always worded things just right so that they couldn’t ever be taken out of context or used against him. And it was that talent that led to the respect the heroes had— a vicious circle, almost, except that Izuku never really felt more than mild frustration about it. Eventually Michael always gave all relevant information and the longer he was around, the more he seemed to be direct and blunt with them from the very beginning. 

“And we were thinking that it would be appropriate for there to be a keystone image for the series. Sort of like the cover to a book.” Michael explains. “Of course there will also be edited video content to make a proper commercial-type advertisement, but that’s not any of your concern now. Kotaro intends to use clips from the already filmed episodes, so all that you and Bakugo need to worry about is the photo.”

To his credit, Michael tries to sound as upbeat about it as he possibly can. There’s not even one single ounce of doubt in Izuku’s mind that Michael knows how much Katsuki is going to hate this. Katsuki has stormed out of Michael’s office enough times, has cut the man off in the middle of a sentence more than enough times for Michael to be able to predict his reaction. Izuku was pretty sure that Katsuki had even told him to go to hell once, though he hadn’t been there for that. He’d just heard about it when he’d returned from a mission, marched straight into Katsuki’s office and all Katsuki had said when Izuku had walked in was ‘I’m not apologizing .”

(He ended up apologizing before they went home that day).

Izuku has one guess as to where this is heading and already he is bracing for Katsuki’s reaction. Briefly, he wonders if that’s why Michael had called him first— to get out of the task of telling Katsuki. 

Izuku will never tell Katsuki this thought, no matter how true it rings in his gut. Katsuki would have a field day with the knowledge that Michael had even the tiniest bit of something that could be called fear in regards to him. He was a menace on the best of days already, he would only get worse if that sort of power was handed to him. 

“Okay…”

“So I was going to send a photographer over to your home and have him do a photoshoot with both of you.” Michael delivers the final explanation like it’s something to be excited about, even though Izuku can feel his heart sinking. 

“My house?” Izuku asks instead, trying to delay the inevitable where he has to acknowledge what was just said to him. 

Suddenly, he finds that he doesn’t want to look Katsuki in the eyes. If the sudden stiffness in his jaw and shoulders is anything to go by, he’d heard. And if he’d heard, Izuku knows exactly what look he’d find in Katsuki’s eyes if he were to meet them. 

“Well, Bakugo’s house, I suppose.” Michael sounds nonchalant as he adds, “I just sort of think of it as both of yours since it sounds like you’re there a lot.”

And that takes the breath right out of Izuku’s lungs, leaving him gasping for any sort of response. The first thought that registers in his mind is how desperately he hopes that Katsuki can’t actually hear what Michael’s saying. If he wasn’t going to meet Katsuki’s eyes before, he absolutely wasn’t going to now— he might never meet Katsuki’s gaze again if he’d heard what Michael said. He knows what his friends think and he’s seen a little of what the public thinks, but he had no idea that Michael thought it, too. He never would’ve expected that impression to be found within their workplace.

Just how long had everyone been seeing something that he hadn’t been?

It was true that there had been rumors about them off and on in the past, but by the time Izuku ever heard about them, they seemed to have already disappeared. He’d always heard about the rumors when they were gone, never when they were active. He’d never had to look the rumor right in the face before and now that he was forced to do that, he was finding himself forced to face his own feelings as well— something he would never have expected to be linked to this and yet it felt like looking in a mirror when he read all the comments because all he could see was himself, completely bare and exposed down to his bones.

“When—“ Izuku clears his throat when the word comes out too feeble, trying to swallow down the myriad of emotions he was suddenly feeling. It would be too obvious if he stood up and went into the other room so Katsuki couldn’t hear, but he desperately wants to. When he tries again, his voice is still thick with a whole different set of questions that he’s not sure he’ll ever get the guts to ask.  “When are you thinking of having them come?”

“I was hoping you guys would be open to having it done today,” Michael allows Izuku to brush past the topic without saying anything else about it. It’s another skill of his— selectively picking up and dropping threads of conversation. Just because he let it go for now does not mean that it’s gone forever, Izuku knows. It just means that it’s not beneficial to discuss at the present moment and honestly, that’s enough for Izuku right now because all he can focus on is the hammering of his pulse in his throat at this exact moment. “It would only take an hour, tops.”

It’s the way that Michael says I was hoping that tells Izuku that this is already a done deal. The photographer has no doubt been hired, and is probably sitting in wait for a time and an address. 

“We—“ Izuku finally convinces himself to look at Katsuki again, not surprised to see the stern way Katsuki is already looking back at him. He feels himself deflate a little. “That should be fine, yeah.”

Izuku doesn’t even get a chance to ask when Michael is thinking of before Michael’s reply comes, just a tiny bit smug around the edges. “Great! Everyone will be there in about half an hour! And don’t worry about clothes, I’ve had them bring some options for you guys.”

“Great,” Izuku echoes hollowly. 

Katsuki is going to kill someone. 

He just hasn’t decided yet if it’s the photographer, the make up artist, or Michael himself. Maybe it’s going to be all three. His palms certainly itch with the need for his explosions, and really, Katsuki isn’t one to play favorites. All three of them have spent more than enough time in his face and Michael promising it will be an hour, tops, has already been shot to hell as the girl who is supposed to be styling them has made Katsuki try on the same three outfits six fucking times and she still hasn’t picked which one he’s going to wear. Actually, add her to the list of potential murder victims.

If he has to kill all of them just to make the point that his and Izuku’s days off are not to be disrupted, he is more than willing to make that sacrifice.

Except for the fact that Izuku is sitting on the kitchen barstool next to him, glancing at him out of the corner of his eyes and talking animatedly with the makeup artist with the clear intent of distracting her attention so she either doesn’t notice Katsuki’s mood or doesn’t make it worse. Most likely, it’s both. If she stays focused on Izuku, she can’t be focused on Katsuki, which gives Katsuki the space to breathe. And that’s fine except it’s Izuku’s day off too, and Katsuki feels particularly protective of Izuku’s time off because the self-sacrificing asshole takes so little of it. Katsuki has had to drag his ass back to the hospital when he was trying to sneak out on a mission with his entire arm casted before. So he’ll be damned if he lets this motley crew of annoyances fuck up the little time off that Izuku does take. 

Still, he can see it in the way Izuku offers him one of those small, intimate smiles, his gaze lingering on Katsuki for a long second while the makeup artist has her back turned to grab something— Izuku is doing this out of the same fierce loyalty that Katsuki feels. In the way that Katsuki wants to protect Izuku’s free time, Izuku is trying to protect his sanity and make this as easy on him as possible. 

Katsuki knows that he should take Izuku’s attempts to help him, but he’s too irritated to try. It would be the decent thing to do if he just sucked it up, bit down on his sour words, and tried to smile through the bullshit that was happening. The better his behavior is, the happier Izuku will be when this whole shitshow is over with, and that’s the only thing that has Katsuki slouching back into his chair with some sort of resignation. He doesn’t think he can be that decent, but he thinks he can probably get through this stupid shit without killing anyone. And truthfully, he knows that Izuku has realistic expectations for him.

“Obviously,” The photographer is saying to Michael and Kotaro, a few feet away, “The picture has to be in the kitchen. That’s the whole point of the show.”

“I agree.” Michael says quietly, glancing around the kitchen as if appraising it.

Katsuki knows that his kitchen is fucking spotless, thanks. He and Izuku had gone out of their way to deep clean it in the thirty minutes they had until the whole fucking crew showed up at his door. It had been clean enough already, really, just their few dishes from breakfast in the sink, but Katsuki wanted to get this done and over with as fast as humanly possible, so he had done what he could to expedite the process. So let Michael fucking look, let him open every goddamn cupboard if he wants to, he won’t find a single thing out of place. And Katsuki will feel smugly triumphant about that. 

“But I think we should try a few different options.” The photographer continues on as if Michael hadn’t spoken. Michael, to his credit, doesn’t look irritated by it. The asshole seems like an emotionless robot half the time, and the other half the time he’s just a smug bastard. It’s like he— no, Katsuki forces himself to take a deep breath and cool off his already simmering temper. “We could have one where Dynamight is cooking, one where Deku is cooking—”

“The show is specifically about Dynamight cooking,” Kotaro cuts in swiftly, clearly trying to redirect the conversation.   He speaks quietly, glancing at Katsuki and stiffening when he realizes that Katsuki is staring back at him. “So I don’t think we need to waste time with shots that don’t properly represent the content of the show.”

For a moment, Kotaro and Katsuki hold eye contact and Katsuki is almost amused to see the tension in Kotaro’s shoulders, down his spine, all the way to the tips of his toes. He looks as frazzled as he had that first day, when he’d been forced to pitch the idea to Katsuki in the first place. More than anything else, he looks like he wants to turn and just bolt out the door, probably not even pausing to close it behind him. And then Katsuki inclines his head the slightest amount, barely even a nod of acknowledgement, and it’s enough to let all of the tension drain back out of Kotaro.

In the time that everyone had been here, Kotaro had been the only one who said anything remotely useful, the last Katsuki could do was let him know that he appreciated it. And based off the way Kotaro’s shoulders sagged away from his ears, he understood what Katsuki’s gesture had meant.

“He has a point,” Michael agrees, glancing between Kotaro and Katsuki briefly, the edge of his smile stretching just a bit. Back to being the smug bastard, then. “We are already taking up time on their day off, I would like to waste as little of it as possible.”

“Fucking same,” Katsuki says and then he laughs a little as Izuku reaches out to smack his arm, disrupting the makeup artist as she was in the middle of patting something across his cheeks.

Izuku apologizes immediately, both to Michael and the makeup artist as he falls back into his seat, cheeks flushed and eyes boring into Katsuki. If that look worked on Katsuki, they would’ve saved a lot of bad years in the past. All it earns him is a sneer from Katsuki and then Izuku is jutting out his lower lip in that signature pout of his. 

“Don’t worry, I understand that Dynamight has… priorities.” Michael says after a moment.

And fuck him if there’s actually some implication there like it seems. If he’s even considering implying that Katsuki is wrong for prioritizing their time off, for wanting to spend his day fucking alone with Izuku, Katsuki will not hesitate to tell him to get the hell out, regardless of how Izuku responds to that.

But then it’s Izuku staring at Michael with wide eyes while Kotaro looks incredulous and a little alarmed and Katsuki can only assume that he, himself, looks somewhere between impressed and completely livid at the bold statement. 

Never one to be outdone, though, and refusing to sink back into the kind of thoughts that had eaten him up this morning, Katsuki simply crosses his arms as he reclines in his seat. “Damn right I do. And you’re getting in the way of them.”

“Kacchan,” Izuku hisses, a few notches too high-pitched.

“So,” Katsuki says, standing from his seat. He had been the first one to get his makeup done and he already hated the feeling of it against his skin. He was in one of those same three goddamn outfits and since the wardrobe girl couldn’t make a decision, Katsuki was officially making it for her. “Let’s get this shit over with, shall we?”

Nobody dares to disagree.

It’s…

Izuku doesn’t know what word to use.

On one hand, it’s horribly uncomfortable. That’s the thing he’s always hated— posing for the cameras. It’s something he has to do a lot as the number one hero— always being requested for modeling gigs, photographed before and after interviews, sought out as a guest appearance, the list goes on and on. He’s no stranger to sitting in front of the camera with his smile plastered on his face, the one that he perfected a long time ago. But it never gets more comfortable for him. Because no matter what everyone says, no matter how high his poll numbers end up being, he never feels like he deserves to be the center of attention. 

And now he’s not just the center of the public’s attention— arguably, at this exact moment he’s not the center of the public’s attention because they haven’t seen any of these photographs yet— but he’s the center of attention for all the people he knows and works with. And honestly, that’s so much worse.

Because they know him, they know that he doesn’t deserve to be sitting here with this big smile as if he were part of this show. All he does is sit off to the side and give Katsuki a hard time. And he’d said as much, insisting that he not be involved in the photos at all because it was Katsuki’s show, not his. But then Katsuki had accused him of trying to get out of it and had glared at him until he relented and sat down. And that’s how he finds himself now— seated at his usual spot at Katsuki’s kitchen island, his back aching with how stiff he’s been holding it to try and maintain perfect posture as the photographer has snapped photo after photo.

Usually when he sits in this chair, he’s turned halfway in his seat, regaling Katsuki with some story or reading him the latest poll numbers. Usually he’s slouched back, comfortable, at ease. It’s usually a safe space for him, and right now it feels like anything but that. 

“Deku,” The photographer lowers his camera as he inspects Izuku, “Move your arm a little to the—“ he gestures with one hand and Deku tries to follow his instructions, “Yes, there— no! Too far! Move it back— perfect!”

Izuku freezes the moment he hears that, trying his best to maintain the pose that has been designated to him. He has one arm on the counter in front of him, the other sort of half draped over the back of the barstool. He assumes it doesn’t look like it in the picture, but he’s practically falling out of the chair with the way he’s twisted to accommodate the pose. He tries to hold as still as possible, to keep his balance and look like he’s steady on the chair, and it seems to go well enough because a moment later, he hears the distinctive sound of the camera shutter snapping multiple pictures in a row. 

“This is so fucking stupid.” Katsuki mumbles from next to him, holding a spatula and glaring at the camera. The photographer had only told Katsuki to smile once and the freezing gaze he’d gotten in response had been enough to stop that from ever happening again.

Izuku hasn’t had a chance to really appraise Katsuki or to look at his pose, but the sound of his voice draws Izuku’s attention, despite the fact that he’s not supposed to be moving at all. Not that it’s anything new, being drawn to everything about Katsuki like that. Not that— god , he needs to get his thoughts away from this terrible track that they’ve started to go down ever since this show had begun, he was dangerously close to ruining the single most important thing in his life. He glances at Katsuki to distract himself and then suddenly bursts out laughing.

Everyone had insisted that Katsuki wear the apron that Izuku had given to him and when Katsuki had done nothing more than lie and say he’d thrown it away, or burnt it, or torn it to shreds— the story changed the more times he was pressed— Izuku simply went to where he knew it would be: the dryer. And sure enough, just like before, it was in there, clean as a whistle. He’d carried it back into the kitchen to the sheer delight of some of their team members and to the utterly venomous look from Katsuki.

When Katsuki made no move to take the apron— or even acknowledge it — Izuku had simply tucked the apron over Katsuki’s head, laughing in the face of his ire as he’d stepped behind him to tie it properly. Katsuki had muttered some threat or another under his breath, but hadn’t moved out of Izuku’s reach or done anything to try and stop him. From there, he’d been strictly forbidden from removing the apron and the photoshoot had finally started.

He stands next to Izuku now, a pan sitting on the counter in front of him— the counter, not the stove — holding a spatula up at his side in what has to be the single most awkward pose Izuku has ever seen in his entire life. Katsuki’s shoulders are stiff, his jaw is set, and his spine is so rigid that Izuku thinks it might permanently freeze that way. He exudes discomfort and it’s honestly the single funniest thing that Izuku has ever seen in his entire life.

He nearly doubles over with laughter, propping a hand on the counter to try and suppress even a small amount of it. It doesn’t even come close to working and he’s barely even glanced at Katsuki for two seconds before he’s gasping for breath around his laughter.

“Oi,” Katsuki barks immediately, slapping the spatula down on the counter and turning to look at Izuku. “What the hell are you laughing at?”

“You—“ Izuku tries to look up at Katsuki’s angry gaze but his eyes snag on the spatula and he loses it again. “You look so awkward!”

“Like you look any better! Idiot.” Katsuki grumbles, reaching out to flick Izuku on the top of the head. It doesn’t hurt, because Katsuki wouldn’t ever put enough force behind it to have it hurt, but the point is all the same. “This whole thing is dumb anyways! The fucking pan isn’t even on the stove! Nobody is going to believe that I know how to cook if they see shit like this!”

It takes Izuku an additional moment to catch his breath, wiping at his eyes as he tries to sit upright again. He still has to lean heavily on the counter, but he’s able to be at least more vertical than he had been before. “He’s got a point.”

“Of course I do.” Katsuki interjects.

“And really, the whole point of this is to show what he’s really like, isn’t it?” Izuku continues, glancing over to Kotaro and Michael for confirmation. Kotaro looks like he’d rather swallow a rock than answer that question and risk putting words in Michael’s mouth, but Michael nods in confirmation. “Well, I can promise you that Kacchan’s never posed.”

“Why the hell does that sound like an insult?” Katsuki asks, reaching for the spatula again, probably intending to point it threateningly at him.

“It’s not,” Izuku tries to soothe him immediately. Katsuki’s hand closes around the handle of the spatula anyways, but he doesn’t lift it off the countertop, so Izuku counts it as a win. He turns to look back at the room. “It’s just that cooking is something that’s always been natural for Kacchan. He’s done it pretty much all of our lives. So if you try to make it look really formal, it takes that away and really ruins the whole feeling of the show and what you’re trying to accomplish.”

There’s a momentary silence that follows that and all eyes seem to fall to Michael, a collective breath held in the room as they wait for him to say anything. Michael is clearly considering the words that have been said to him, his gaze darting around the kitchen as if looking for something. Izuku can’t possibly imagine what it is that he’s looking for, so he doesn’t even bother trying to guess or offering any sort of suggestions. Katsuki has relaxed next to him, propping himself against the counter and crossing his arms over his chest.

At least this way he looks like himself, even holding the spatula like that.

Finally, Michael looks back at Izuku. “What do you suggest?”

“Hey! It’s my show!” Katsuki interjects immediately. “Why aren’t you asking what I suggest?”

“Kacchan—“ Izuku starts to say something, but Michael interrupts him before he has a chance.

And Izuku finds himself caught entirely off guard by Michael’s perception for the second time in one day and that’s immediately very concerning. 

“It’s simple. Midoriya has always been your biggest supporter and has always had nothing but praise for you.” Michael starts, shrugging as if this is obvious. And to some extent, Izuku is sure that it is. He’s certainly never tried to hide his praise for Katsuki, but combining this with Michael’s earlier comments has Izuku’s nerves on edge. “If our goal is to make the rest of the country see you that way, he’s going to be the person who can tell us how to get there. He clearly knows how to highlight your best qualities.”

Katsuki’s jaw seems to hit the ground— Izuku practically swears that he can hear the moment it does. 

The only thing that drowns out the sound of Katsuki’s jaw hitting the ground is the sound of Izuku’s jaw hitting the ground, too.

Kotaro, too, looks equally as surprised. 

This time, the silence that surrounds the room is stunned with just a little hint of discomfort. Izuku is honestly not sure how long the silence lasts before he finally manages to reel his mind back together and try to go back to the question that had first been asked. He’ll definitely be calling Ochako later, though.

“I— I think,” Izuku clears his throat as his voice suddenly feels and sounds too loud in the silence. “You should just have the photographer here while he’s cooking something. Catch the perfect moment of him in his element. It will be both accurate to the show, and a better representation of Kacchan.”

Katsuki seems to have reigned in his own surprise, snapping his jaw back into place as he mutters, “Every moment is the perfect moment, dumbass.”

And something about that one petulant statement is enough to make some of the weight dissolve off of Izuku’s chest, to allow him to take in a little bit deeper of a breath. He was likely blowing everything way out of proportion, his perception of things skewed with this new realization he was trying to come to terms with. Most likely, Michael wasn’t hinting at all the things he seemed to be hinting at, and Izuku needed to stop taking everything that way so he had a chance of getting through this without having four separate heart attacks. 

“Of course it is.” He agrees, offering Katsuki a warm smile and purposely shaking the tension out of his shoulders. “So if you whip something up real fast, this can be over quickly!”

“You bastard,” Katsuki grumbles, but he pushes off the counter and snatches the pan from where it’s been sitting all of this time, already clicking the stove on. “You’re just mooching more food off of me. Lazy asshole.”

Izuku laughs, standing up on his own and heading to the cupboard with the cutting board. “I’ll help.”

“God damn right you will.” Katsuki replies, already at the fridge. He tosses a few ingredients to Izuku without really even looking, but Izuku catches them with ease, scattering them across the counter. 

And just like that, they fall into their usual routine. Whatever awkwardness Izuku had felt, whatever perceptions he’d been misinterpreting dissolve as he and Katsuki move around each other with ease, exchanging ingredients and little teasing comments, warm smiles and a lot of laughter.

It’s so easy to be working with Katsuki in the kitchen like this that Izuku doesn’t really even hear the click of the camera in the background.

It takes two days for the photographer to get the photos to them, but the moment they end up in Kotaro’s email, everyone is already gathered around and looking at them. The promotion was supposed to start two days ago and Kotaro thinks that Michael would have worn a hole into the carpet if he didn’t have other duties to attend to as the head of the agency. As it was, it seemed like he got an hourly email from Michael asking about the photos, even though he had explicitly promised to email Michael the second he got them at least four times already. 

But the photos end up being completely worth it.

Well, the second half do, anyways. 

There’s a clear shift between the first half of the photos where the photographer had been in charge of their posing and the second half where they had followed Midoriya’s suggestion. In the first half, absolutely everything looks uncomfortable. The editing is great, but there isn’t anything about those photos that would draw someone in or give the impression that Bakugo is any different than his public persona. He’s scowling in literally every single photo, and every line of his body is impossibly rigid. Even Midoriya looks uncomfortable, the edges of his signature smile strained.

But in the second half they’re both smiling, and it looks genuine. There’s a few where Midoriya is throwing his head back, one hand gripping the counter to support him and Kotaro can just hear his laughter through the photo. Bakugo is glancing over his shoulder in those, his own smile wide and happy as he looks at Midoriya’s exuberance. There’s a few where Bakugo looks like the expert on cooking they’re all finding him to be— skillfully flipping food in the pan or handling different kitchen utensils with clear and practiced ease. 

In the second half of the photos, there’s a lot to choose from. It almost makes Kotaro’s job hard, but that’s the kind of difficult problem he wants to face, and it’s been a long time since he’s been handed such a good problem. So he doesn’t mind flicking through them over and over again, scrutinizing each one for any small detail that might give it an edge over a different photo, or knock it out of the running completely.

It’s a delicate balance he has to strike— getting the dynamic between Bakugo and Midoriya correct without overselling Midoriya’s part in the show. In a lot of the photos in the second half, he’s participating in the cooking. And he has helped some in the previous episodes,  but Kotaro has no idea if that will continue and he doesn’t want to potentially put something misleading in the photo that would cause people to be disappointed if they didn’t find it. 

The one that he likes the most is the picture of Bakugo plating up the meal he had cooked, Midoriya leaning over his shoulder to swipe a bite off the plate. Bakugo’s expression isn’t as unguarded as it had been in the laughing photos, but it’s still affectionate and a little annoyed, which is exactly the right balance, Kotaro thinks. This photo in particular also does an excellent job of demonstrating their dynamic, and Midoriya’s smile is so unapologetic as he meets Bakugo’s gaze head on that it makes everyone else in the room smile as they look at it. In Kotaro’s mind, it’s the only photo they can possibly go with. 

The composition of the photo is great, too, with them properly centered while still having enough empty space around them for Kotaro to overlay some text explaining the details of the show. He could have it whipped up and out on the internet in under an hour at this point. In the two days that he’d been waiting for the photos, he’d been agonizing over exactly what he wanted to advertise on them. The day and time of the streams were obviously important as well as the location of the stream, but he wasn’t sure how much information outside of that he should share.

On one hand, there was enough information about it on the internet now that if someone wanted to know what it was about, they could easily just look it up, which made Kotaro want to leave that information out, trying to keep the image as uncluttered as possible. On the other hand, Kotaro was already seeing the narrative that he was starting to lose control of and he knew that damage control would be easier later if he started to put some small measures in place now. It would be easy to throw a quick summary onto the image, explaining the cooking show and the dynamic as— as co-hosts? He would have to think of a word to properly describe it. 

“This is my choice.” Kotaro says to the room as a whole after staring at the picture for a solid thirty seconds. He nods, almost to himself, as if reaffirming his choice.

Michael, who had been standing behind him with his hands on the back of Kotaro’s chair this entire time, makes a noise of agreement. “Yes, I think that does a good job expressing what we want it to express.”

“Perfect.” Kotaro reaches out to his keyboard, hitting the escape button to finally exit full-screen mode on the photos. “Then I’ll—“

“Wait.” Michael leans down all at once, practically brushing against Kotaro’s shoulder as he squints at the now visible portfolio of photos before him. By the time he had gotten Kotaro’s email and made it down, Kotaro had already sifted through all the photos from the first half of the shoot and eliminated them from the running, so Michael hadn’t actually seen any of them. “What’s that?”

“Oh, these are the beginning photos.” Kotaro explains, glancing over at Michael. “Before Midoriya gave his suggestion. They’re all just as awkward as he said, I looked at them all.”

“But that one—“ Michael finally takes one hand off the back of the chair and points, his fingertip nearly brushing the computer screen as he indicated one specific photo. “Let me see it.”

Dutifully, Kotaro double clicks on the photo, bringing it back up to full-screen mode so they’re able to inspect the whole thing. It’s one of the very first photos of the whole shoot, one that Kotaro thought had been taken as a test shot while they were still figuring out the lighting. It’s Midoriya draping the apron over Bakugo’s head, just an inch or two shorter than him and only an inch or two away from his face. Midoriya is grinning brightly at Bakugo who looks a little bit annoyed, a little bit fond, and a lot flustered, if the blush on his cheeks is anything to go by. 

Honestly, it’s a pretty dynamic shot, with the positions of their bodies and the shapes that’s being created by Midoriya reaching over behind him like that. It’s not a great photo for advertising their show, but It would make a great blackmail photo if Kotaro ever decided that he did have that death wish, after all. 

“I want to use this,” Michael declares immediately.

“You want to— what ?” Kotaro turns in his chair so fast that it actually dislodges Michael’s hand off of the back of it. Michael doesn’t stumble at the loss of his support though, he simply straightens up and meets Kotaro’s gaze with one that demands cooperation.

Kotaro feels his heart sink to the soles of his feet.

“I want to use this.” Michael repeats slowly. “Along with the other image, of course. I want you to find a way to use both,”

“Michael,” Kotaro begins, though he doesn’t know how to accurately express what an unbelievably bad idea he thinks this is. 

For all that Michael doesn’t seem to ever be anything that completely serious, he seems to be playing some game with this rumor about Bakugo and Midoriya’s relationship, and Kotaro can’t possibly see what beneficial endgame there is to this. It’s only a matter of time before the rumor gets more traction and spirals completely out of control— it’s only a matter of time until all the “evidence” from all the previous rumors of this nature come to life and add fuel to the flame. 

“I understand your concerns.” Michael says, even though Kotaro hadn’t actually expressed any of his concerns yet.

It does little to soothe Kotaro’s frayed nerves. “I don’t think you do.” He says, and then he takes a deep breath to try and stop himself from sounding frazzled or irritated. “You're not the one who had to do the damage control, Michael. You don’t know how extensive that can be, or how fast this sort of thing gets out of hand. You weren’t here in the past when I’ve had to squash this rumor. It’s one of the public’s absolute favorites, and it gets harder to kill every time it comes up. The last thing we need is you — well, egging it on, I guess.”

Michael regards him for a long moment and in the past, it would have made Kotaro feel like shrinking in his seat. As it is, he wishes he was invisible, but he doesn’t try to get out from under the weight of Michael’s gaze and that has to count for something.

“Kotaro—“

“I’m sure you have a reason,” Kotaro rushes to add, realizing a little belatedly how accusatory his last statement had sounded. “I just have to admit that I don’t see it, and I’m worried about it going wrong.”

There’s a pause that follows Kotaro’s words and he thinks, fleetingly, that maybe he just cost himself his job. He never thought it would come down to something so small,  but there’s a strange edge to Michael’s gaze that makes him wonder. Just a few weeks ago he’d been contemplating filling up a cardboard box and walking out of here, tasked with something he didn’t think he’d ever overcome. Now the idea of that cardboard box makes him sad, and he doesn’t think of this as an impossible challenge anymore. A challenge still, definitely, but not an impossible one.

And honestly, he’s not sure exactly when that changed, not sure when he started to think of this as something he could pull off but suddenly, as the silence between him and Michael stretches on and pulls taut, he realizes that he does think of it that way. And it would be a shame to lose it.

“You’re accompanying these advertisements with clips of the previous episodes of the show, aren’t you?” Michael finally asks and at the very least it confirms that Kotaro still has his job.

“Yes,” He answers slowly. “That’s my plan.”

“Why don’t you start with the image you selected, show some clips of the show, including the clip where Midoriya gifts the apron to Bakugo, and then end with the image I’ve selected? That way it will give it some context, at least.” Michael offers.

It’s not the worst idea, that’s for sure. The context would certainly help curb some of the rumors— or at least give Kotaro leverage to use when he had to come back in and curb them himself.

He takes a deep breath and then lets it out in one long sigh. Maybe he’ll be able to figure out what angle Michael is playing eventually, because he doesn’t think Michael is going to willingly tell him whatever it was he seemed to be constantly hinting at. 

“Okay.” Kotaro agrees, because he doesn’t want to push his luck any further and it’s the best compromise he’s going to get. “I’ll set it up exactly like that. I should have it ready to run by the end of the day.”

Michael nods once, almost curtly, and then heads for the door. He pauses just in the doorway, turning to glance at Kotaro as he says a simple, “Trust me.”

Kotaro doesn’t know if he does, but he knows that he doesn’t have another choice.

The next morning, Izuku wakes up on a proper pillow, instead of cramped on Katsuki’s couch.

He’s still at Katsuki’s flat, buried under the covers of Katsuki’s gigantic bed, hair a disheveled mess on his head as he rolls over and reaches for his phone. He’s not honestly sure if he plugged it in before he fell asleep or if Katsuki had done it for him, but it’s fully charged nonetheless.

Katsuki is still asleep next to him, one arm jammed up underneath his pillow and lips parted as he breathes gently. He’s the most peaceful when he’s asleep and it’s probably because it’s the only time he’s actually quiet, but Izuku would never tell him that. Not just because Katsuki wouldn’t hesitate to blow him into outer space with an explosion or two, but also because he likes how loud Katsuki can be. He likes it when he is surrounded by Katsuki, able to hear him wherever he is. He would gladly listen to anything Katsuki has to say, so the silence isn’t something that Izuku seeks from him.

But it still lends to a quiet start to the day. The sun isn’t fully up over the horizon yet and Katsuki alarm will be going off in only a few minutes, no doubt. So Izuku doesn’t try to fall asleep again, he simply opens his phone and starts scrolling through it as he waits for the inevitable buzz of Katsuki’s phone, followed by the groaning and fumbling that always came when Katsuki tried to turn his alarm off without actually opening his eyes. 

Izuku taps through different social media profiles as he waits, surprised when he opens his twitter to even more notifications than usual. He doesn’t typically engage in conversations on twitter that much, but he does try to post with some frequency to keep everyone updated on the more mundane parts of his life. It’s not uncommon for his notifications to be blowing up with people responding to whatever he had posted. But there was a difference between blowing up and blowing up and the way he was laying in bed, watching his notification count jump to 99+ within seconds of him clearing it over and over again was something new. 

He tries to scroll through all the notifications to figure out what’s going on and the first conclusion he comes to is that everyone seems to be replying to the same tweet. He traces the responses to a tweet from his agency— the promotion of Discriminating Taste that was supposed to go up a few days ago stares back at him. 

Immediately, Izuku feels his face flush as he looks at the photo that they had selected to advertise it. From Katsuki’s scowl to Izuku’s smile, from the barely there distance between them to the way Katsuki was clearly holding strong to allow Izuku to reach over his shoulder— all of it has Izuku turning about eighteen shades of red. He thanks his lucky stars that the sun isn’t up and Katsuki’s alarm hasn’t gone off yet. 

For all that he hadn’t known his own feelings for a long time, it seems like it really has been on display this whole time.

Izuku puts his phone down in favor of scrubbing a hand over his eyes and groaning quietly. He needs to sort this all out in his head, and he needs to do it soon . At the rate this is going, he’s dangerously close to burning down in flames for the whole country to watch live and that’s not something he can afford to do.

Katuki’s alarm goes off before Izuku can think any more about it, followed by the groaning and fumbling just as Izuku had predicted. Something about it soothes the turmoil inside of him and he finds himself smiling as he reaches to shut the alarm off for Katsuki who mumbles something that might sound vaguely similar to a thank you. 

He can do this, he tells himself. He just has to pay more attention, that’s all. He can absolutely keep his feelings in check until he has a chance to better examine them. It just involved a little mental focus.

Izuku unlocks his phone again and quickly retweets the promo, as Michael no doubt expects him to.

He doesn’t bother watching the whole thing first.

RainyWombatCherryblossom : There’s no way that promo is real, is there? I mean??? The loving gazes??? DEKU PUTTING THE APRON ON DYNAMIGHT??? This has to be the most convincing fan edit ever😑🙄🙄

B00bird : The way Deku is JUUUUST short enough to have to go up on his toes to put the apron over Dynamight’s head? DELICIOUS 😌👌👌

NeurovascularEntrapta : I literally don’t think it’s possible for this to be more domestic 😏🌚🌝

EmberKitti: HELLO??? WAS NOBODY GOING TO TELL ME THAT DYNAMIGHT HAS A COOKING SHOW FEATURING DEKU?? AS IF I COULD WANT ANYTHING ELSE👁️👄👁️

thePapaya27 : honestly the trailer does a good job of showing how fruity the show really is🍓💋🍊

ArsenalBurke: this is the fakest shit I’ve ever seen. Didn’t Dynamight just cuss out an old lady?? And now you expect me to think he’s cooking? Who falls for this shit😒🥱😒

Cyfromi: what’s next? Dynamight uses his explosions to help cook the food? That’s the most obvious click bait I’ve ever seen🙄😓😤

kinodity: I’m really hesitant to believe this cooking show is real because honestly it couldn’t sound any more fake.  But Deku did rt the trailer……😳👀🙀

By now, Katsuki is completely used to the lighting and film crews. He doesn’t know any of their names, doesn’t give a shit about any of them personally, but he recognizes the way they knock half an hour before the show is supposed to start. He doesn’t have to do anything besides open the door and step aside— they move in and through his apartment with ease, taking the places that have started to belong to each of them as they work diligently and quietly to set up.

Never in his wildest dreams would he have anticipated getting used to something like this, but he finds that he doesn’t even really feel the need to supervise them anymore. Kotaro is standing in the kitchen doorway, overseeing the entire process, and that’s enough comfort for Katsuki, so he ditches back to his bedroom to change into something more suitable for this episode. 

The time ticks away rapidly and Katsuki can feel himself rushing through changing. He considers trying to tame his hair but immediately throws that thought aside, a smug looking Best Jeanist popping to the front of his mind. For all that Katsuki says that he doesn’t give a shit about this show, his actions are slowly starting to indicate otherwise and that’s something he absolutely has to nip in the bud right now. Not only will he not stand for that behavior, but he definitely won’t stand for the way Izuku would absolutely start making fun of him the moment he noticed.

It’s actually impressive that he hasn’t noticed yet. 

Because Izuku notices everything about him. 

That’s always been true, and Katsuki has no shortage of complaints about it. It’s the most long-standing thing in his life and it doesn’t show signs of going away any time soon, but it used to be something that only he and Izuku really shared. Sure, back at UA, everyone knew that Izuku had previously analyzed his quirk and his fighting style, and that he continued to do so, but nobody really seemed to look much deeper at it than that. Izuku was known— even now— for analyzing everyone he comes in contact with, and Katsuki just happened to be one of the first people he knew with a quirk. Nobody had really bothered to look past it, to see the way that Izuku looked straight past all of Katsuki’s facades and saw straight into the core of who he was.

And by the time everyone started to realize that maybe they were closer than just a middle school nerd and his bully, it didn’t really matter because it was something they had chosen to make obvious. Well, maybe not chosen , but consciously done, They had made a deliberate choice to work on their teamwork, to learn to communicate properly instead of with their fists. So when everyone saw their relationship start to develop, it was because they had put in the fucking blood, sweat, and tears— on Izuku’s end, of course. Katsuki doesn’t cry— to make those improvements.

But suddenly— suddenly it feels like everyone is noticing all over again, only this time they aren’t making any conscious decisions to display it. 

This time, everyone is just bystanders in his life, people he doesn’t even get to interact with properly. But he sees it everywhere, hears it constantly. People talk about the way they interact with each other, the way they seem to communicate without words. He sees comments all the time— fine, okay, he fucking reads the comments sometimes —about how Izuku is the only one who can call him on his shit and get no adverse reaction. And, well, the thing that’s the most frustrating about all of it is the fact that it’s fucking true . Izuku can call him on his shit— does , constantly, the annoying bastard. And all Katsuki can do is sneer at worst, rolling his eyes for emphasis.

If anyone else were to point out the things Izuku does, they’d have a blast halfway down their throat before they even finished their statement. If his friends were to say it, he wouldn’t go that far, but they’d definitely get something worse than Izuku gets. 

There’s something about the fact that Izuku endured the worst of Katsuki’s personality that gives him special rights. When everyone else says he’s being an asshole, they don’t know what it’s like when he’s really an asshole. But Izuku does. Izuku has the scars on his heart, the holes in his clothes, and the dark shroud to his memories that allows him special privileges with Katsuki now. And though it’s not something they really ever talk about and not something Katsuki dwells on much now that they’ve made their peace, it still shapes this thing between them into something different than what Katsuki has with all of his other friends.

He supposes that’s what most people would call a best friend and Izuku is his best friend,  but he’s also something different than that. Something Katsuki had been perfectly content to never put a name to until the goddamn internet had decided to shove their noses into his business and start throwing labels all over the place. 

Katsuki’s phone rings and he thanks his lucky stars for the fact that it’s ripping him from the train of thought that he never wanted to even board in the first place.

“Oi, where the fuck are you?” Katsuki snaps as he answers the phone. “This is the second week in a row you’re cutting it close, nerd.”

“Kacchan,” Izuku sounds breathless on the other end of the line and immediately Katsuki feels his heart jump into his throat. “Hey, I can’t—“ There’s a crashing sound in the distance and Izuku lets out a forced exhale.

“Where the hell are you?” Katsuki asks, already marching towards his door, ready to sprint out without a single piece of his costume on. “I’ll be there right away, just tell me—“

“No, Kacchan!” Izuku cuts him off before he can finish his statement, his voice more of a whisper now. He takes a breath and repeats himself. “No. It’s okay, I’m fine. But I’m caught up in something and won’t be able to come.”

“God damnit, Deku,” Katsuki growls into the phone. “Tell me where you are .”

“No,” Izuku repeats for the third time and Katsuki can just fucking hear the fond edge to his smile. “You have to do the show. I’ll be out of here soon, just not soon enough to make the start. But don’t worry, I’ve got someone on their way over to cover and I promise to be there later tonight!”

“Deku—“

“Sorry, Kacchan! I have to go! Good luck on the show!!” Deku’s smile is bright, even in his quiet voice. “I’ll see you tonight!!”

And then the line goes dead and Katsuki is left to just stare down at the blank screen of his phone and sigh.

Discriminating Taste

Cooking with Dynamight

Episode 4: Poached Salmon 

Follow along with Dynamight’s recipe here!

When the screen first fades from black and shows Dynamight’s kitchen, there isn’t anybody standing in it. There’s a few muffled voices and then the sound as if one of the microphones in being played with. The chat starts to theorize immediately, but Dynamight marches on screen before the theories get a chance to get too wild or gain any serious traction. He’s looking down as he approaches the counter, fiddling with his shirt, and as he turns to face the camera it becomes clear that he’s clipping a microphone to his shirt. The rustling sounds match his movements for a moment before he drops his hand and it goes completely silent. 

“So,” Dynamight begins with absolutely no preamble. It has always been Deku that has greeted the audience and thanked them for joining, it would almost feel strange to hear those words from Dynamight’s lips. That feeling is punctuated by the fact that Deku isn’t currently present in the kitchen at all. Dynamight looks out of place, being completely alone in his kitchen like this. “Deku isn’t going to be here tonight. He’s caught up on a mission.”

Immediately, the chat is crying out, upset at the lack of their favorite hero— and the dynamic that makes the show as entertaining as it is.

Because, truth be told, Dynamight is really starting to creep up there on people’s favorite hero lists. Nobody had known what his genuine laugh sounded like before this show and now that they knew, there was a collective agreement in every online forum that they’d never be willing to go without it again. And since Deku seemed to be the only one who could bring that side of him out, well, there was a lot of disappointment that he wouldn’t be there.

Kstarbee : Wasn’t the whole point that Dynamight cooks and Deku eats? GIVE ME DEKU😤🥦😢

usamamo911 : DEKU NOT SHOWING HIS FACE AFTER RETWEETING THAT FRUITY PROMO EARLIER IS PRETTY SUS NGL😬😐🤔

Deadboi : Deku rts something that shows them practically K I S S I N G and then can’t show up to the show????😩😵🤥

“Trust me, I’m not happy about it either.” Dynamight continues since he doesn’t have the tablet in front of him and doesn’t seem to be able to see the chat or the way it’s reacting to Deku’s absence. “If you want to complain, complain to the fucking villains that are keeping him occupied. Until then, just know that there is someone else who will be a guest here tonight.”

Dynamight’s gaze drifts off to the side of the camera, his lips tilted down in an unimpressed frown as a shadow approaches, growing larger as it starts to slip over the top of the counter. And then there’s red hair and a bright smile in front of the camera and everyone is going absolutely wild to see Red Riot smiling back at them.

“Hi, everyone!” He waves at the camera. “Thanks for letting me be here with you guys today!”

IntoxicatedTurtle1019 : HOLY SHIT IS THAT RED RIOT❤️🤩🥳

danisaur_4 : Not Red Riot just casually strolling into Dynamight’s kitchen😃😙🥩

pappappapmkin : DID ANYONE HAVE RED RIOT ON THE DISCRIMINATING TASTE BINGO CARD????😲🙀😗

“They don’t have a choice, dumbass.” Dynamight comments from the counter, crossing his arms over his chest. There’s the slightest upturn at the corner of his lips, the smallest break in the frown he’s clearly trying to maintain. It involves looking closely to see it, but his fans are more than willing to do just that. “I don’t even have a choice. Deku didn’t tell me he’d invited you.”

Red Riot grins at Dynamight as he slips into Deku’s normal seat behind the counter. There’s something almost conspiratorial in his smile, like he was proud that he and Deku had pulled off some big switch, some prank that Dynamight hadn’t seen coming. There’s only happiness in his smile, casual fondness and a level of comfort in the lines of his body as he sinks into the seat like this is far from his first time sitting there. “Of course not. He knew you’d throw a fit.”

Dynamight’s eyes glance from Red Riot to the chair he occupies and it’s like the train of thought of everyone in the chat is written clearly on his face— Red Riot is a welcome guest but he can’t replace Deku. And the fact that he’s sitting in Deku’s seat almost makes the absence of everyone’s favorite hero that much more jarring. Still, Dynamight doesn’t say anything about it, rolling his eyes instead as he responds. “I don’t throw fits.”

Lyoness : It’s okay Dynamight, we all know you want a different man to be sitting there😏🥦🪑

rustbuckethoe : DYNAMIGHT LOOKS SO UPSET THAT RED RIOT IS IN DEKU’S SPOT💥💚🧡💫

Red Riot’s smile grows as he reaches forward to clap Dynamight on the shoulder. For the vast majority of people, that would likely be a death sentence, but for Red Riot it’s nothing more than a fond gesture. Dynamight doesn’t even pull away from under his hand. “Yes you do! I have so many stories from school that I could tell!”

Predictably, the chat starts begging for stories the moment the words are out of Red Riot’s mouth. 

Tia_Lee : I will give my first, second, and THIRD born children for Red Riot to share high school!Dynamight stories👀👶🍖

AAAnotherA : BLACKMAIL!!!!!!😈😈😈

Bruja_ofthe_Midwest : Pls Red Riot I am BEGGING U, TELL ME EVERYTHING ABOUT DYNAMIGHT IN HIGH SCHOOL🙃🙇🙇

Rat_Lady : First Deku exposes his childhood and now Red Riot is going to expose his school years??? we’re blessed💁💅🙏

The eye contact they make is full of history, that much is clear immediately. Dynamight tries his best to glare fiercely, but Red Riot doesn’t even blink, doesn’t remove his hand from where it’s still clapped on Dynamight’s shoulder and absolutely does not let his smile waver at all. There’s a challenge in both of their gazes— Dynamight challenging him to be brave enough to say a word and Red Riot challenging him to attempt to stop whatever plan he had. It was a standstill. 

It lasts for about ten seconds before someone clears their throat off screen and everyone recognizes Kotaro, even though he can’t be seen. 

4R3Bees : Kotaro can’t possibly get paid enough for this job!!! My man deserves a raise!!!!😫💴💵

Pink_Scrunchie : I thought Kotaro having to wrangle Dynamight and Deku was bad, but this might be worse!!

Red Riot does not look like he plans to keep ANY secrets tonight !😰😱🤯

Yuhonorine : Dynamight is so mad that he doesn’t have Deku here with him and it’s??? Sweet????😳🙈🙊

“Why don’t you start cooking?” Kotaro says from off screen and Dynamight heaves in a sigh, starting to unfold his arms and reaching for one of the ingredients. As soon as he turns his gaze away, Red Riot’s grin grows, like he’s just won a staring contest. Dynamight rolls his eyes without even looking, probably feeling the smugness that’s rolling off of Red Riot in waves. “And while you do, Red Riot can tell us one of those stories.”

Red Riot’s smile grows as Dynamight’s jaw drops.

“Bastard,” Dynamight cries in disbelief, pointing a finger towards the right of the camera. “Who’s fucking side are you supposed to be on? Eijiro certainly has never fed you!”

It’s impossible to see Kotaro’s response with him still out of sight of the camera but whatever it is has Red Riot dissolving into laughter, clutching the countertop as he tries to keep steady. Dynamight, for his part, looks equally pissed, surprised, and impressed— it’s a look the fans are getting used to see on him as they get to see people around him who are willing and unafraid to stand up to him. So far it’s been directed at Kotaro the most. Probably because he never looks surprised when Deku talks back to him or tells some story that he knows Dynamight would rather die than recount, he mostly looks resigned. 

“Kats,” Red Riot says after a minute, Trying and failing to get a steady breathing pattern back. “Oh man, he turned on you, huh? Well,“ He takes a second to purposefully straighten up and try to take a deep breath. “We’ve both gotten our marching orders, huh? You cook and I’ll tell everyone about high school Katsuki who used to go to bed at 8:30 in a matching pajama set, yelling at anyone who made a noise past 9pm—“

Before anyone has a chance to react, Dynamight and Red Riot are both scrambling, practically wrestling as Dynamight attempts to shove his hand over Red Riot’s mouth. They’re both laughing, and it’s not the same type of laugh that everyone hears with Deku, but it’s still warm and full of both humor and enjoyment. Dynamight’s grin is sharp but not at all unkind as he tries to put Red Riot in a headlock.  But Red Riot is fast, and apparently pretty flexible, because he twists easily out of Dynamight’s grasp. They end up standing across from each other, matching grins with arms raised. 

“You’re such an asshole.” Dynamight says, lunging towards Red Riot and throwing a punch that just grazes the edge of Red Riot’s shoulder. 

“I’m the asshole?” Red Riot asks around a laugh of his own. He steadies himself a step to the left, his hand around Dynamight’s wrist, holding it in place so he can’t strike again. “You just tried to punch me!”

“I went easy on you.” Dynamight dismisses easily, pulling his hand back from Red Riot.Red Riot lets it go easily, watching Dynamight for a second before dropping his guard completely when it becomes apparent that he’s not going to throw another punch. Dynamight rolls his eyes as Red Riot steps up to him and slings an arm around his shoulders, shaking him slightly to try and get him to relax into the embrace. He would absolutely murder anyone who pointed it out, but everyone watching sees the way the tension drains out of his shoulder as he looks at the person who has always been said to be his best friend— after Deku, of course.

And it’s clear that it’s completely true. Their comfort with each other is tangible, especially as Dynamight makes a disgusted face and shoves Red Riot away, as if he were allergic to the affection. Red Riot laughs as he settles back into his seat. 

Red Riot leans forward, propping his arms up on the counter and watching as Dynamight works. “You did go easy on me,” He agrees, before turning towards the camera and tossing the audience a conspirator smile. “And all I did was tell the truth.”

“Shut the fuck up.” Dynamight grumbles, but he’s clearly biting back the edges of a smile.

HiItsMe123 : Are you really friends if you don’t try to beat the shit out of each other on live tv?(人 •͈ᴗ•͈)

Nyan_Queen_Lyra : That’s the nicest way I’ve ever seen anyone get punched◉‿◉

NowWithExtraSalt : Tbh you can just honestly tell that they get along💥🤝🗿

Blackmoonrise : This is the only boys will be boys that I’ll ever accept🙆🤼🚒

“Are you alright, Red Riot?” Kotaro appears on the edge of the screen, eyes focused on the two heroes.

“Oh,” Red Riot offers him a genuine smile. “Completely. He really did go easy on me, it didn’t even hurt. He’s all bark and no bite, this one. At least to the people he cares about.”

“Which is nobody.” Dynamight interjects only to earn a roll of the eyes in response. 

Red Riot waves him off, looking at the camera again. “Seriously, he’s saved my skin so many times. I’ve gotten into some pretty bad situations that I wouldn’t have been able to get out of without him. He’s rough around the edges, but he’s got a heart of gold buried really deep down in there.” Red Riot glances over at Dynamight who has finished organizing all of his ingredients and is just staring at them, studiously avoiding the gaze he can surely feel. “He’s honestly a great friend, he just doesn’t like being seen that way.”

AmbroseSebastian : Red Riot and Dynamight BROTP??? I already knew they were friends but listen to Red Riot talk about him!!!(人*´∀｀)｡*ﾟ+

Aubergenius : The way everyone who actually knows Dynamight talks about him so fondly >>>>>(●♡∀♡)

“Will you shut up so I can talk about what I’m doing?” Dynamight reaches over and lands another gentle punch on Red Riot’s shoulder.  It’s just enough force to shift Red Riot in his seat a little and he comes back grinning as he straightens back up. “The show is about my cooking, not you.”

“It could be about me!” Red Riot laughs, ignoring the way Dynamight flips him off. “Just think, I’d get to come back every week! I could— fine, fine, go on.”

Dynamight gives a sarcastic thank you for allowing him to do the entire purpose of the show and Red Riot gives him an equally sarcastic, you’re welcome, it really was very generous of me! Dynamight picks up one of the vegetables, feigning throwing it at Red Riot. Red Riot flinches, arms going up automatically, ready to catch the vegetable but it never leaves Dynamight’s hands. 

Finally, Dynamight takes a moment to explain the dish he’s making: poached salmon with lime and coconut sauce. He points at the ingredients laid out in front of him, talking about each one and how it will be used in the recipe, this time taking time to elaborate on his favorite brands and discussing different things that can be used to substitute if some ingredients are unavailable. He pauses as the appropriate time, as if purposely creating time for people to be jotting down notes. He discusses where he first had this dish and why he likes to make it. Somewhere in the middle of his discussion, he starts to filet the salmon, pausing from his story to explain what, exactly, he’s doing.

When he finally reaches a lull in the story, turning around to fidget with some pots on the stove, Red Riot jumps back in after having sat patiently and quietly the entire time. To everyone surprise— though their surprise is growing smaller the more they get to see and know Dynamight— Red Riot doesn’t look at all shocked at how good of a teacher Dynamight actually is. If anything, he just looks like he’s remembering something fondly. 

“The first time I ever had his cooking was in high school,” He begins, glancing at Dynamight to see if he’s going to interject. Dynamight makes no moves to stop him. “Izuku had been sick— like, really sick. We hadn’t seen him in class for three or four days at that point.”

“That fucking idiot spent way too long out training.” Dynamight recalls, “And in a rain storm. He was asking to get sick.”

Red Riot laughs fondly. “You were so mad when you found out he was sick. For the first two days you pretended that you didn’t care, going on and on about how he deserved it for being an idiot.”

“Which he did.” 

“But by the third day, it was clear how worried you were.” Red Riot raises his eyebrows in challenge as Dynamight opens his mouth to protest. Dynamight’s expression sours but he doesn’t disagree, instead turning back to the stove. “I think you practically kicked his door down when he didn’t answer in the first three seconds after you knocked. You knocked so hard we could hear it down in the common room. Honestly, you probably gave him a heart attack and that’s why he didn’t answer.”

Dhaedrius : RED RIOT IS OUT HERE EXPOSING HOW MUCH DYNAMIGHT CARES FOR DEKU💚🧡🚢

rynn_twelve : MY CROPS ARE WATERED, MY SKIN IS CLEAR, MY ENEMIES ARE IN THE GRAVE, RED RIOT HAS FIXED EVERYTHING IN MY LIFE WITH ONE STORY(ʃƪ＾3＾）💝

“He’s always been stupidly reckless.” Dynamight remarks, taking a step away from the stove and leaning to prop a hip against the counter while the food cooks. There’s a frown on his face again, but this one is different than the others. This one isn’t put out, it’s— it’s almost sad. “He always puts himself last, constantly getting hurt and barely making it through. It’s like he lives to worry the people around him.”

“I’m sure Izuku would protest to you saying that.” Red Riot replies evenly, his gaze level as he looks at Dynamight. “But that sounds like someone else I know.”

“Whatever,” Dynamight nearly scoffs, glancing down again. That seems to be a common theme for him— hiding his face when there’s any sort of emotion in his expression. “I’d let a building crush you in a heartbeat.”

Red Riot laughs again, “I meant the stupidly reckless part, idiot.” He reaches over to whack Dynamight but Dynamight is easily able to bat his hand away. “And you have jumped in to save me before. Don’t think I forgot.”

“Don’t ever expect me to do it again.” Dynamight responds, but it’s clear to everyone that it’s nothing more than an empty threat. 

There’s silence for a few beats and Red Riot’s expression indicates that he’s thinking something. He glances at Dynamight’s face, glances down at the counter, and then seems to make a decision. He takes a deep breath.

 “Though you do put yourself last where Izuku’s concerned. I remember that time you dove over him to protect him from some rubble. It was the first time—“

“Don’t.” Dynamight holds up a hand and Red Riot stops immediately. There’s suddenly a hard set to Dynamight’s jaw, as if he’s clenching is teeth together around some memory.

Red Riot surveys him for only a moment before ducking his head and mumbling, “Sorry.”

Dynamight clears his throat and tries his best to wipe the expression off of his face. “Bad memory.”

“I know,” Red Riot’s still quiet as he offers an encouraging smile. “But everyone’s okay now.”

At that, Dynamight’s smile comes back a little bit. “For now. Who knows how long till that idiot does something stupid again.”

“That’s the spirit!” Red Riot chirps, swinging a fist through the air and it actually earns a laugh from Dynamight, the tension breaking. 

animeshipper435 : Wait I want to know the rest of the story!!! RED RIOT TELL US HOW IT ENDS 🙊😱😰

giftedpoison : What on earth could’ve happened to make Dynamight react like that???🙀😳😮

coffee_being : DO YOU SEE HIS EYES? THAT MAN IS REMEMBERING SOMETHING AND IT DOESN’T LOOK GOOD😨😥😞

“Let’s talk about something else,” Red Riot offers after a moment, turning to look off screen. “I watched last week’s episode and you guys were trying to answer live questions. Is that something we could do?”

“Sure,” Kotaro steps on screen with the tablet in hand. He practically rushes to Red Riot, his anxious energy tangible through the screen. Even with his back to the camera, it’s easy to tell that he’s giving Dynamight an appraising, concerned look. Dynamight just inclines his head in acknowledgement of something and Kotaro seems to relax. “I’m sure they would absolutely love that.”

cookie_cutter : Kotaro you better stay out there with them!!!!ᕙ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)ᕗ

foresty_ocean618 : We haven’t had enough Kotaro content this ep, I’m living off CRUMBS୧( ಠ Д ಠ )🍞

There’s a quiet laugh as Red Riot takes the tablet and starts scanning through the most recent comments. It only takes a second for him to have to place a finger on the screen in an attempt to pin the chat down since the messages are moving so fast, it has to be near impossible to read. Even through the screen, it was easy to watch his eyes scan the comments as he tried to quickly make sense of what was happening. 

“It looks like they want you to stay out here,” He says to Kotaro’s retreating back and Kotaro freezes in his spot, glancing down at his feet instead of over his shoulder at Red Riot. “I remember that from last episode, too.”

“That’s really quite alright—“ Kotaro starts to excuse himself.

But it’s Dynamight who speaks up. His voice is stern, but not unkind as he gazes at Kotaro. “Sit your ass down, Kotaro. We go through this every week.”

Kotaro sighs in defeat and moves to sit next to Red Riot at the counter.

“I promise I don’t bite,” Red Riot smiles and Kotaro clearly tries to smile in response, absolutely exuding nervous energy through the screen. 

The fans, of course, love it, lamenting on how jealous they are of Kotaro and how they would all feel the exact same type of nervously-star-struck if they were in his shoes. Everyone starts offering him words of encouragement and it seems that he gets to read them, because Red Riot tips the screen of the tablet in his direction and mumbles something that the mic doesn’t quite catch, but Kotaro’s smile grows as he scans the screen, too. 

And then Kotaro glances up to meet Red Riot’s gaze, but his eyes seem to stray past him and catch on Dynamight who is smiling a small smile— one that everyone immediately starts to describe as proud. 

“Okay!” Red Riot takes the tablet back. “Kats, how much longer do we have on the cooking?”

“Seven minutes.” Dynamight answers easily without glancing up. 

Dynamight truly is an impressive force in the kitchen. His knife handling skills are one thing, but the way he seems to be able to eyeball his measurements and cook everything to perfection without the use of a timer is on a completely different level. He moves through the kitchen with absolute ease and still manages to give useful recipes that are able to be copied, despite the fact that he doesn’t demonstrate specific measurements at any point in time. His education through the whole process is enough to build anyone’s confidence and he believes hard in cooking to someone’s specific tastes, encouraging everyone to tweak or alter his recipes to fit their palates better. 

“Okay,” Red Riot sets the tablet down for a moment and goes to stand up. “I’m gonna grab a drink and then we’ll spend seven minutes answering questions.” 

“By the time you’re done with all that, you’ll only have five minutes.” Dynamight remarks.

“You have to plate things!” Red Riot fires back. He pauses after taking a few steps and glances back to Kotaro, “Do you want anything?”

Kotaro shakes his head.

Red Riot moves around Dynamight, reaching for one of the nearest cupboards when Dynamight steps up to him, a hand landing on the cupboard and holding it shut. “What the hell are you doing? Just going through my shit?”

“You let Izuku do it.” Red Riot points out, almost smugly.

“Because he knows where everything is.” Dynamight answers, shoving Red Riot to the side and reaching into a different cupboard than the one that he’d been about to open. If he has any response to the clear shot Red Riot is taking, he doesn’t show it. “You would just be touching everything for no reason.”

“It wouldn’t be for no reason,” Red Riot argues, “The reason would be that I’m looking for glasses.”

“Just—“ Dynamight pulls his hand out of the cupboard with a glass, shoving it against Red Riot’s chest as he starts to close the door.

“Wait!” Red Riot reaches over Dynamight’s shoulder and catches the door before it can be closed. “What about that one? I like that mug.”

Dynamight doesn’t even look into the cupboard to see what Red Riot is gesturing to. He turns a lethal glare on Red Riot, his eyes narrowed as he smacks Red Riot’s hand away and slams the cupboard door shut with a sense of finality.

“Oh, that’s right. That’s the Izuku mug, isn’t it?” Red Riot’s smile is nearly lethal as he leans closer to Dynamight. “The special one that he gave you? That you swore you hated and then never let anyone else touch? I thought it looked familiar. “

“You—“

“I bet,” Red Riot’s grin is lethal and very self satisfied. “If I were to open that cupboard again, I’d find Izuku’s matching one right alongside it, wouldn’t I?”

Antares555 : I can’t tell if Red Riot is completely fearless or has a death wish, but it can only be one of those two things🙃👀🙊

DEizuku : RED RIOT IS GOING FOR THE THROAT TONIGHT(⑉⊙ȏ⊙)

Etabeta84 : Red Riot is just as sick as everyone else of watching these two dance around their obvious crushes on each other¯\_ಠ_ಠ_/¯

Bakutart: I can’t with the way Red Riot showed up tonight with every intention of exposing Dynamight AND THEN FOLLOWED THROUGHHHH(ﾉ*0*)ﾉ🤯

“You’re so fucking annoying.” Dynamight  grumbles as he moves back towards the stove. “Do I have to show you were the fucking sink is, too? Or can you get your own water?”

“Oh, would you show me?” Red Riot mocks, “It’s so hard for someone like me to figure out.”

“I’ll shove that glass right up—“

“Okay!” Kotaro interjects, standing from his own seat with enough haste that the chair scratches along the floor. “There is a limit to the amount of threats and curse words we can get away with.”

“Is there?” Dynamight smiles like he’s just been given a challenge. “Let’s see where that limit is.”

“No!” Kotaro waves his hands in front of him, taking a few steps closer to the pro heroes. “Please don’t!!”

Dynamight doesn’t do more than roll his eyes, but Red Riot backs off and moves towards the sink entirely on his own, filling up his cup of water without further incident. Once it’s filled, he returns to his seat, reaching for the tablet again. It takes Kotaro a long moment to be able to sit down next to him,  but he eventually does and things are quiet for a moment while Red Riot tries to catch up on what’s happening.

He laughs as he reads the comments and looks up towards the camera again. “You guys think I’m brave for teasing Kats, but I’m not. Honestly, the way to become friends with Kats is just to give him shit back. I’m serious! He gives a ton of shit, but he can take it back, and he respects you all the more for it if you bite back. Really, try it sometime! But, no matter what he says, he really wouldn’t actually hurt me.”

“Do you want to test that theory?”

Red Riot ignores the comment. “It’s all good-natured and he knows that. Gosh back before I got together with Ashido, he used to tease me mercilessly. I’m serious. I made the mistake of telling him how I felt about her and he brought it up practically every time I even looked at her.”

“Your pining was so obvious that it was actually painful to witness.” Dynamight turns the stove off and reaches for one of the plates. “I had to try and hurry your ass up before we all died from waiting.”

“And I’m grateful that you did,” Red Riot concedes easily, tipping his head in acknowledgement. The entire audience seems to be collectively holding their breath, wondering if Red Riot is going to imply anything further, if he’s going to outright say something damning, and he takes his toes right up to the line. “I’m hoping that someday you’ll thank me for the same thing.” And then, before Dynamight can react to that comment, he turns back to the camera. “I’m just saying that our love language is giving each other a hard time.”

Dynamight makes an unimpressed noise, letting Red Riot’s comment slide under the rug, even if the internet will be holding onto it forever. “Don’t use stupid phrasing like that.”

“It works for us.” Red Riot says. “Sort of like siblings, you know? I wouldn’t be doing my job as his friend if I didn’t give him a hard time when I could.” He shrugs, smiling. “But no matter what we say or how many times he throws punches my way, I know he’ll always show up for me when I need him. Kats is a lot of things, but loyal is definitely in there. So, no, I don’t have a death wish. It’s just been a few weeks since I’ve seen him and I’ve got a lot of teasing saved up.”

“If you always act like this,” Dynamight’s cheeks are dusted the lightest shade of pink as he dishes up the food. “It’s going to be a couple months before you see me after this.” He hands Red Riot a plate, pointedly not meeting his gaze. “Now eat some damn food so your mouth is too full to talk.”

Red Riot takes the plate gratefully. “I’ll gladly eat,” He says, “But I’m certain I can talk while I’m doing it. So let’s hear those questions.”

Izuku walks in the door just as Kotaro is walking out. The rest of the film crew seem to have already left, judging by the way the apartment looks like it’s barely been touched. Izuku smiles at Kotaro, stopping to chat with him briefly. Kotaro lets out a sigh of relief that the episode is over and everything about his posture tells Izuku that the show had been both rewarding and very stressful, which tended to be the way Katsuki could be with anyone when he was thrown off his groove.

There hadn’t been a doubt in Izuku’s mind that Katsuki wouldn’t appreciate his last minute failure to live up to his end of the deal, and he had known that he needed to do something to mitigate the bad mood it would put Katsuki in. Eijiro was not only guaranteed to be able to withstand anything Katsuki threw at him, Izuku was certain that he would be able to cheer Katsuki up, as well. And based off of what Kotaro had to say about it, it sounded like that had ultimately been the case.

Though it didn’t explain exactly why Kotaro could barely look Izuku in the eyes as he talked to him.

Or why he excused himself from the conversation more quickly than usual, though he did have some excuse mumbled under his breath that Izuku didn’t catch before he practically darted out the door.

“What did you two do?” Izuku asked as he entered the family room to find both Katsuki and Eijiro seated on the couch, game controllers in hand. 

“Hey, Izuku!” Eijiro greeted warmly as Izuku came to a stop next to the couch. “What d’you mean?”

“Kotaro practically broke the door down trying to get out of here.” He fixes his questioning gaze on Katsuki who doesn’t even bother to glance back, though Izuku can see in the line of his shoulders that he feels the weight of it. “So what happened?”

“Don’t look at me,” Katsuki grumbles after a second. “All I did was cook dinner.”

“And punch me.” Eijiro chimes in. “I think you also were starting to threaten me but Kotaro cut you off.”

Izuku sighs. “Kacchan.”

That, at least, gets Katsuki to put his controller down and return Izuku’s gaze. “What the hell did you expect me to do? You knew this would happen when you picked shitty hair to join me.”

And that wasn’t strictly true but it wasn’t untrue either. Because Izuku had picked Eijiro to withstand Katsuki’s mood, which meant that he knew Katsuki reacting like that was a possibility. And judging by how casually Eijiro brought it up, it wasn’t anything serious or to be worried about. Kotaro was probably still just too nervous being around all of them that the change had thrown him off even further. Izuku had noticed that he was starting to loosen up around them a little bit, but throwing Eijiro into the mix so last minute probably took away all the confidence he had started to build around them. 

“Why did you punch him?” Izuku asks instead, taking a seat in the chair that Katsuki has next to the couch. 

His entire body was sore and tired from the mission he’d been on. It wasn’t supposed to turn into anything physical, but things rarely went to plan. What had started out as collecting information had turned into an all out fight and Izuku had come out victorious, but incredibly exhausted from it all. Judging by the look on Katsuki’s face as he surveyed Izuku, he was aware of all of that without Izuku even having to say anything. He tried to offer an encouraging smile.

“Well,” Eijiro answers almost gleefully, “Do you remember back in school when Kats here used to wear that matching pajama set?”

“ Used to? ” Izuku laughs as Katsuki’s expression darkens dangerously. “He still—“

A pillow to the face cuts off the end of his sentence.

“If either of you say another word, I’m throwing you both out of my flat.” Katsuki warns.

Izuku and Eijiro look at each other for a moment.

“Another word.” Eijiro finally says, laughing uproariously as Katsuki rips the pillow off of Izuku’s lap now and launches it as his face instead. He scrambles over the back of the couch as Katsuki dives for him, running towards the door and practically shoving his feet into his shoes. “It was nice to see you, Izuku! We’ll have to— I’m going, I’m going! — catch up soon!”

The door opens and shuts before Izuku even gets a chance to reply, but he finds himself smiling at the door anyways. 

“You’re next.” Katsuki points an accusing finger at Izuku from where he stands behind the couch. “I swear to fucking god, Deku. Don’t you—“

“Another word.” Izuku laughs, too, as the pillow comes flying for his head again.

(Katsuki doesn’t kick him out).

Chapter Text

-TRENDING-

1- Trending

#DiscriminatingTaste

2- Trending

Red Riot

3- Trending

#SaveRedRiot

4- Trending

Dynamight

5- Trending

#BkDkCookingAU

@Hjkbarrelhorse 58 min ago

Wait— WAIT DID ANYONE ELSE SEE THIS TRAILER?😳 @DEKU RT’D IT? IS THIS SERIOUS?🙊🙊 #DiscriminatingTaste #BkDkCookingAU 

🗯5  ↻ 108 ♡217

@Ochaocha 47 min ago

Is anyone else worried that Dynamight murdered Red Riot after yesterday’s episode of #DiscriminatingTaste? I know they’re friends but☠️😰—

🗯17  ↻ 199 ♡233

@kalico.kay 14 min ago

THIS IS HOW I FIND OUT THAT THE COOKING SHOW WASN’T JUST CLICKBAIT? BY RED RIOT SHARING A SELFIE?😵😳 Times keep getting tougher and tough I swear😩

🗯2  ↻ 27 ♡39

@Dynabitch 10 min ago 

are you kiDDING ME????? HELLO???? WHO WAS WITHHOLDING THE MOST DOMESTIC THING TO EXIST THIS ENTIRE YEAR FROM ME????👬🏡🌈🧡💚 #DiscriminatingTaste

🗯11  ↻ 84 ♡112

↳@Casta26 9 min ago

@ Dynabitch literally??? I just watched the trailer and they might as well be married!!!11🌝🌝👨❤️👨

🗯1  ↻ 1 ♡14

@jenanigans1207 1 min ago

oh god here come all the bkdks again,,,,,,🏃🏃💨

🗯355  ↻ 809 ♡1420

This time, Kotaro doesn’t even knock.

He’s not honestly sure he could stand the few seconds it would take for Michael to beckon him in, his nerves so close to fraying that he might combust in the split second between his fist knocking on the door and Michael responding to him. He truly thinks that those seconds would stretch on into the longest eternity possible and he would wither and die just standing there, his anxieties eating him from the inside out. By the time Michael opened the door, Kotaro would be nothing but a skeleton barely standing on the other side.

Michael doesn’t look surprised to see Kotaro, or at the fact that Kotaro has just forgone all propriety and simply barged into his office. Kotaro stops in his designated spot on the other side of Michael’s desk, hands gripping the back of the chair that resides there for some futile attempt at support. It provides physical support which he’s grateful for, but absolutely no emotional support and he continues to feel like each nerve ending in his body is being actively singed by hot coals.

“I assume you’ve been following the response to the trailer?” Michael says in lieu of any sort of greeting, reclining in his chair as he appraises Kotaro. He may not have been surprised when Kotaro had stormed in, but he does seem surprised at Kotaro’s general state of disarray. “And the reaction to the live episode including Red Riot?”

He had been put together when he had arrived at the office this morning, he really had been. He had set a strict rule for himself that he was not allowed to check trending twitter topics or views on the discriminating taste trailer or videos when he wasn’t at work. His fingers had itched with the desire to do both of those things all morning but he had held strong, instead busying his fingers with doing up his tie and buttoning and unbuttoning his suit jacket approximately every three seconds. In the time that he wasn’t doing those things, he seemed to be running his hands through his hair. And it was these nervous habits that had only escalated as he’d finally gotten to work and looked at the number— it was these nervous habits that were the very reason he no longer looked polished or professional.

Kotaro hadn’t looked in a mirror since getting to work but he suspects his hair might look as if he had been electrocuted and he knew that his tie was hanging loose and limp across his chest, one tail untucked from his suit jacket from the moment he had suddenly felt like he was being suffocated and nearly ripped it off of him entirely. His top button was undone, too. It didn’t actually make an impact on the feeling of suffocation but somehow he knew it would get worse if he bothered to straighten his tie back up again. 

“I have worked with you for years,” Kotaro replies, forgoing all greetings as well and simply diving right into the topic that had led him here. He wants to pace circles around Michael’s office but understands that even in this state, there are still boundaries. “I have followed your guidance and trusted your judgment unfailingly and you have not led me astray. Things have flourished under your leadership and the agency has never been doing better.”

“While I appreciate the flattery,” Michael’s concern seems to be growing by the second if the way his frown continues to deepen in any sort of indication. “But I don’t get the impression that you came in here to give me compliments.”

“But I simply can’t see what thought process you’re following here.” Kotaro spits out, feeling both lighter and completely damned the moment the words leave the tip of his tongue. “It’s clear that you’re playing some game but Michael, I have to warn you that you’re playing with fire. A flame that is not easily extinguished, either. I know that from personal experience.”

“I understand your concerns—“

“And yet you toss them aside so easily!” Kotaro lifts his hands off the back of the chair in front of him, throwing them into the air in an all-encompassing sort of gesture that doesn’t quite sum up how he feels but at least starts to head in that direction. “I understand that you have the final word but no leader is effective if they refuse to listen to the people below them!”

What he wants to say is that tMichael may be a great agency president, but he has no experience in PR and should therefore at least consider the opinion of the PR representatives. He wouldn’t have allowed any of them to stay working for the agency if he hadn’t thought them capable when he took over. What was the point of having employees with certain specialties if he refused to listen to them?

“There’s more factors at play here than you realize.” Michael answers instead, the same level of just-cryptic-enough as always.

“Considering I am both Bakugo’s head PR manager and the person in charge of discriminating taste ,” Kotaro tries to take in a breath but the suffocating feeling is back and his throat seems unwilling to comply. “I don’t think there should be anything happening that I don’t know about.”

“Anything that is relevant to your ability to do your job will, of course, always be provided to you.”

“That’s not what I mean and you know that! You know that, Michael, and yet you choose to still be purposefully dense.” Kotaro feels like he is heaving breaths, like each attempt at an inhale is the hardest chore he has ever tasked his body with. His shoulders rise and fall, his chest rises and falls, he feels like he is manually forcing his ribs to expand to make room for the air his body is craving. 

The room is silent around them and even though Kotaro feels like his breathing is audible, the silence is somehow still deafening. It hurts his ears, the way it rings in the spaces between them, fills up the very few and far between gaps in his mind. For the most part, his mind is filled with too many thoughts, replaying all the comments he had read, trying to mentally calculate every exit strategy he could ever possibly dream up.

Finally, Michael breaks the silence and Kotaro doesn’t know if it’s a blessing or a curse. “What is this about?”

“Did you know,” Kotaro grips the back of the chair again, taking a step back so he can lean into his hands and apply some pressure through his shoulders. He uses the sensation to ground himself, to try and slow his breathing back down. “That Bakugo has a picture of his parents on the bookshelf in his family room? He has pictures of him and Midoriya when they were children. Did you know he has framed pictures displayed inside of his house? He has decorative pillows on his couch!”

“I—“

“And Midoriya! Have you ever heard him laugh? Actually laugh and not just his public laugh that he saves for the cameras?” Kotaro can still hear it echoing in his head, the way Midoriya’s laugh is completely different when it’s unguarded and unwatched. It’s lighter, somehow, full of a type of happiness that is even more impossibly contagious than his usual laugh. It’s like his public-appearance-laugh amplified. “Do you know how genuinely tired he is at the end of the day? He works so hard for you and then makes it home and nearly collapses.”

Truthfully, both of them do. Kotaro has seen both Bakugo and Midoriya on the verge of sheer exhaustion. It was just a few days ago that Bakugo had been so tired he’d just zoned out entirely, barely even comprehending a single word that was said to him. And just two episodes ago, Midoriya had folded himself over the counter the moment the cameras had turned off and was nearly asleep pressed against the cool granite countertop before Bakugo even finished moving the dishes to the sink. He was so closed to being asleep that Kotaro had even received a sharp warning look from Bakugo that insinuated all the terrible things that would happen to him if he dared disrupt Midoriya now that he was finally getting even a moment of rest. 

Michael pauses for a moment after Kotaro’s outburst, as if waiting to see if there’s any more he has to say. There probably is, but at the moment the words aren’t coming to him. “What are you trying to say?”

The answer to that comes surprisingly easy. “They’re real people, Michael. They’re people , just like we are. They’re not pawns in some game for you to play, and they’re not just public figures. Behind closed doors, they’re no different than you or I.”

And that’s really what it boils down to. Kotaro had noticed it during his first trip to Bakugo’s flat, the way that it felt like he was just in a random person’s house and not the house of the number two hero. He recognizes the way he’s able to navigate around that house now, even though it’s only been a few weeks, the way he can now feel the warmth of the personal touches inside. He still struggles a little in their presence, he can’t deny that, but he’s starting to be able to see past the facade, the perfectly crafted masks that they both wear. He’s starting to see the real people that hide underneath and the more he sees of them, the more he realizes one thing—

They could get hurt from this.

It’s not lost on Kotaro that pain and injury is a risk that they take on a daily basis in their professions, but this is entirely different for two reasons. The first, and most obvious reason, is that this is an entirely different kind of hurt that’s waiting around the corner for them. This is the kind of hurt that is unseen, that hides in the shadows of the heart. Kotaro won’t pretend to actually have any idea how either of them feel, but it doesn’t honestly matter. Unless they both feel exactly the way the public thinks they feel and unless they get together completely on their own terms, Kotaro can’t see this ending in a way where at least one of them— but most likely both— comes out unscathed.

The second, and potentially more important reason that this is different is that this isn’t something either of them have consented to. They don’t know this narrative that is being spread behind their back, don’t know what Michael has ordered Kotaro to do— or not do. When they take on the risks of their hero work, they know what they’re getting into and they’re choosing to get into it. From the very beginning this has been something that they have both been forced into against their wills and it feels like a betrayal of the trust that Kotaro is forming with them to allow this to continue the way it’s going.

“I understand that they’re not pawns —“ Michael starts to reply.

But Kotaro can’t even stomach the words. “Do you?” He demands, raising his gaze to look at Michael who, for the first time since Kotaro has ever met him, actually looks uncomfortable and like he feels out of place. “Because you don’t treat them like they’re anything more than that. You parade them in front of the media, you force them into situations that they don’t like in order to gain favor from the public—“

“—That’s their job .”

“Yes,” Kotaro agrees. “ That is their job. But this? This cooking show? This rumor? The damage it will do to both of them personally? That is not their job.”

Michael taps his fingers across the top of his desk for a moment, staring at Kotaro with an unreadable expression. For a brief moment, Kotaro wonders and worries that he’s crossed a line, pushed too far and Michael is about to throw him out the door. But Michael, for all of his directness, appreciates the same kind of behavior in return. He may not like what Kotaro is saying and obviously seems to disagree with it, but he wouldn’t fire Kotaro simply for speaking his own opinion. 

Still, in the moment that Kotaro wonders if he’s about to be booted, he can’t help but notice the way his stomach plummets to the floor at the thought. 

“You like them.” Michael finally says. “Don’t you?”

“Well— yeah.” Kotaro admits after a moment, surprised by the question. “They’re… hard not to like.”

“ Both of them?” Michael prompts. 

And Kotaro almost isn’t surprised at how easily his answer comes. “Yeah, both of them.”

The smile spreads slowly across Michael’s face. “Kotaro,” he says firmly but not unkindly. “I still don’t want you to do anything about the rumor. But I do want you to pay attention to them, to how they interact, to all the little things the fans point out. I want you to try and see what they’re seeing.”

Kotaro feels the color drain from his face. This whole outburst and still, Michael hasn’t budged even a little. “Why—“

“If— “ Michael keeps talking before Kotaro can even finish his question. “ If you can watch them and you can honestly tell me that you don’t see what the fans see, you should have no problem doing damage control. But if you see what everyone else sees—“ Kotaro notes the look in Michael’s eye then, the way he’s clearly referencing more than just the fans now. “Then you will understand the decisions I’ve made. I will let you observe them and come to a decision. Once you’ve definitively formed your opinion on the matter— after looking at it with an open mind, of course— I promise to abide by your recommendations at that point. But right now I fear you’re so worried about the potential repercussions that you aren’t seeing what’s right in front of you— or the good things that could come from it.”

Kotaro listens to Michael’s entire speech. He hears every word Michael says— his brain processes each individual bit and at the end, he comes away with only one message from it. “Are you trying to set them up?”

Michael’s smile doesn’t falter. “Let me know once you’ve come to that definitive decision and we can talk again about how we want to move forward.” He says instead of answering the accusation in any way. “But remember that you have to look objectively and not be blinded by your fears.”

Easier said than done, Kotaro thinks with a pit in his stomach. Especially when Michael just amplified his fears a hundred times. 

It’s a whole day later when Izuku finally gets a chance to watch the entire promo trailer that had been released all over social media.

When he first wakes up the next morning, he’s still at Katsuki’s house and they share a hurried breakfast before Katsuki has to rush out of there to follow up on some information that had been called in overnight on one of his cases. He offers to let Izuku stay in his flat for as long as Izuku wants— an unnecessary offer, really, because Izuku knows that it’s always okay and he has a key that would let him in even if Katsuki didn’t want him there— but Izuku chooses to follow him out the door anyways. He’s barely been to his own flat in the last week and really has some laundry he needs to do. So he walks in step with Katsuki all the way to the agency, bumping shoulders with him and smiling before continuing on his way home. His scheduled shift for the day doesn’t start for a few more hours so he should have a bit of time to get some household chores done.

Once he’s all the way home, clothes in the washer and a glass of water on the counter in front of him, he finally gets a chance to open up twitter.

Much of Izuku’s personal life he likes to try and keep to himself because so much of his life and his identity has already been handed to the public. That being said, he understands that the public wants to know more about him and the mundane parts of his life so he had struck a deal with his PR team very early on that he would get to be in charge of his own social media accounts. That would allow him to keep his fans up to date on the stuff in his life that he was comfortable sharing while being completely in control of what information was put out there. And his PR team agreed to defer all questions to his social media posts and to never provide additional information to anything unless they had explicitly gained his permission.

It worked well overall and allowed Izuku to feel like he still had parts of his life that didn’t belong to the public, but sometimes keeping up with his social media profiles felt like an entirely separate job in and of itself.

Once again, he opened twitter to see 99+ notifications at the bottom and had to take a drink of his water and deep breath before diving in. It was hard for him because he liked to respond to as many people as he possibly could but with the sheer number of mentions he got on a constant basis, that was just flat out impossible. And then as soon as he replied to one person, or posted something new, the retweets and replies came in so quickly that his mentions just became even more of a mess and his ability to keep track of what was happening was completely gone. 

Izuku scrolls through his mentions for a minute or so, scanning the tweets he finds there with increasing alarm.

After about the sixtieth tweet he reads that accuses him and Katsuki of being domestic, or hiding a relationship from the public, Izuku traces all the tweets to one source: the promo video that he had retweeted. 

He remembers looking at it when he was half asleep the other morning, watching the first few seconds before retweeting it once he realized what it was. He doesn’t remember much about it, but he’s certain now that he didn’t watch it all the way through. Normally, he wouldn’t watch something like this to the very end, if at all. Well, okay, he might watch it if it had Katsuki in it— and by might, he means he absolutely would watch every second of it. But he doesn’t typically watch things that are promoting him in any way, because he still feels weird seeing his face in public.

Either way, the sheer number of comments that he’s seeing in response to this are enough to make him click on the video and watch it, even if he didn’t have any intents of doing so originally.

And what he sees when he watches the video has his jaw practically on the ground.

As much as he would like to deny the accusations of domesticity, he— he can’t . The way they move around each other in the kitchen, the way they laugh together, the clip of Izuku just moving through the kitchen and grabbing things without any instruction, without any adverse reaction from Katsuki— every single moment of the clip makes it look like they live together or that they do lead some sort of happy life together behind the cameras. And the pictures at the end— Izuku hadn’t even realized that the camera had been clicking then. Once he’d suggested that they just take candid shots of them while Katsuki cooks, well, the rest had sort of dissolved into the background.

Which was a bad habit that Izuku had never been able to break— letting the rest of the world fade out of existence when he was with Katsuki. There had always been something about Katsuki that had made him the center of Izuku’s world and the older they got, the more that seemed to be the case. He was generally better at realizing when it happened now, but he seemed powerless to stop his entire focus from shifting to Katsuki and Katsuki alone. 

And, as much as Izuku wishes it wasn’t the case, that fact seems to be clearly encapsulated in those photos, and in the trailer in general. Which leads Izuku to wonder just how much of his heart he wears publicly on his sleeve, and how many of his emotions were bleeding out for everyone to see during each episode. 

He was well aware that there had been rumors of him and Katsuki having a secret relationship in the past— they even had a ship name!  That was a term Izuku only learned after seeing bkdk all over the place and making the unfortunate mistake of asking someone what it meant. When he had first learned— about the ship name, the rumors, all of it— he had considered holing up inside his flat for 6-10 business days because it would take at least that long for his face to start to return to even some semblance of a normal color. 

He and Katsuki had never talked about it, of course. Izuku thinks he would rather die than talk about that with Katsuki, thinks that trying to talk to Katsuki about that would actually end in his death— whether from mortification or Katsuki himself, was up in the air still, but Izuku knew he didn’t stand a chance of surviving that conversation. 

And, fine, alone in his flat with the evidence staring him straight in the face, Izuku can admit to himself that maybe there is some basis for the rumors. At least on his half.

He would never— literally not ever, life on the line— admit that out loud to anyone, including himself. But he’s never been good at lying to himself in his own mind and he can feel the facts with each beat of his heart. So with a flaming face in the secrecy of his own apartment and time to kill, Izuku takes out the old feelings that he’s been nursing for as long as he can possibly remember. 

The flame is just as solid and steady as it’s always been, nothing strong enough to blow it out. It’s fanned by admiration, by adoration, by all the times he’s heard Katsuki laugh or seen his sleepy eyes under his messy bed head. The flame is built on a solid knowledge of who Katsuki really is, what he’s really like, and all the memories that fill the space between them. Even the memories that aren’t so good add fuel to the ever burning fire because those memories are great for comparing and contrasting how much Katsuki has grown, and for demonstrating how much he cares now. 

The memories are well worn at the edges from all the times Izuku has turned them over in his mind, examining them from every angle, replaying every word the ghosts of his past murmured while he looks for any hidden meanings. They slot into place easily, fill Izuku with all the familiar feelings that come from his past with Katsuki— contentment, fondness, a feeling of belonging and—

Izuku slams his hands down on the countertop and jolts upward unsteadily. He stares wildly at his phone which had finished playing the video and turned back to a black screen in the time that he had been reminiscing. In the reflection of his dark screen, he can see his own blush and wild eyes, his heart pounding in his throat, in his ears, all the way to the tips of his fingers. 

His washer buzzes and Izuku nearly launches himself across his apartment to get the clothes out and start the next load of laundry. Anything that can serve as a distraction is welcome at this point. Izuku moved his clothes along far too quickly for his liking and suddenly finds himself back to facing the same dilemma that he had just been avoiding. 

He needs to figure out some way to try and squash the rumor, that much he knows for sure. But he can’t comment on it from his professional accounts because he can’t say or do anything that would either add fuel to the fire or risk the promotion efforts they have gone to for discriminating taste . In truth, Izuku knows that he shouldn’t actually do anything, leaving it to the agency and their respective PR teams to handle the rumors, as they are paid to do. 

But Izuku still can’t breathe and the one word he’s never allowed himself to think in conjunction to Katsuki is dangerously close to the surface, so he finds that he’s unable to sit idly. 

He takes a deep breath and unlocks his phone again, navigating back to Twitter. 

@onetimeuse-only 22 min ago

@RedRiot ARE YOU STILL ALIVE? DID DYNAMIGHT GET TO YOU?👀

🗯1.6K  ↻21.7K ♡59.9K  

↳@RedRiot 17 min ago

@onetimeuse-only HAHAHAH I’m still good!!!👍👍 Kats is all bark but no bite!🤣😊😜

🗯11.5k  ↻ 98.7k ♡115k

Katsuki is in the convenience store just up the road from Eijiro’s place when his phone rings. He barely glances at the name on his screen as he picks it up, propping it between his cheek and his shoulder so he can still grab drinks while talking.

“What’s up?” He asked as soon as he answered.

Kotaro, on the other end of the line, sounds a lot steadier than Katsuki would’ve expected. Maybe Kotaro really is starting to be less afraid of him. “Bakugo, hey!” There’s a lapse in conversation where Katsuki continues shoving drinks in the basket in his hand. Finally Kotaro breaks it, almost rushed, as if he just realized that he’s the one who should be in charge of the conversation. “I just wanted to check how you were?”

“What the hell?” Katsuki stops what he’s doing abruptly and stands up completely, actually grabbing his phone in his hand as if that will somehow make a difference. “What’s going on?”

“Nothing!” Kotaro answers too quickly. “I just thought, since the show is getting so popular, that I should—“

“Kotaro.” Katsuki cuts in, his voice stern, his impatience clear.

Kotaro sighs on the other end of the line and Katsuki practically gets every answer he needs out of that one sound alone. Before Kotaro even answers, he’s marching towards the front of the store and laying his items out to purchase them. He hands his card to the cashier as the guy rings him up, tapping his fingers impatiently on the counter as he waits for Kotaro to say anything. The cashier looks almost star struck to see him and Katsuki does his best to reign in his attitude and offer the guy something that is closer to a smile than a grimace which is the best he’s offered anyone in awhile, he thinks.

“Kotaro.” Katsuki says again when the silence continues to stretch on too long. He’s going to have to talk to Kotaro about getting his shit together and replying in a relatively decent time. Especially now that Kotaro seems to actually be able to stand on his own in a conversation.

“Do you have access to twitter?” Kotaro finally asks and Katsuki is two seconds away from ripping his phone away from his ear and opening the offending app without even answering.

“Unfortunately.”

“If I were you,” Kotaro almost whispers. “I wouldn’t open it for a few days.”

“Kotaro you know damn well that’s going to make me open it and look at whatever the fuck is going on, right?” Katsuki snaps back, feeling what little patience he had snap.

“Please don’t.” Kotaro tries, but even he sounds resigned to his fate, like he knows what Katsuki’s going to do. 

And really, how could he say something like that and not expect Katsuki to look? No normal human can resist when they’re told not to do something, especially in a case like this. Surely, Kotaro must know that. To Katsuki’s understanding, like half of PR shit is understanding how people think so that it can be used against them. So there’s not a chance in hell that Kotaro could’ve started this call without knowing what was going to come from it.

“Do you need anything else?” By now the cashier has finished ringing up and bagging Katsuki’s stuff and is offering him back his card. Katsuki swipes it back and shoves it in his pocket, figuring that he’ll put it in his actual wallet later. He grabs the handle of the bag and offers another almost-smile to the cashier before heading for the door.

“No,” Kotaro answers and Katsuki hangs up before he has a chance to say anything else.

The convenience store is only a five minute walk from Eijiro’s place and he’s already halfway there when he finally gets twitter open and starts to make heads or tails of all the shit going on in his mentions. He’s tagged in an endless number of posts that he doesn’t really care about and does his best to scroll past those. Kotaro can’t possibly be concerned about the shit some extras are saying on the internet— well, he can be, but not concerned enough that he would call Katsuki over it. So whatever it is he’s looking for, it should be obvious—

“Motherfucker,” Katsuki cusses as he pushes open the door to Eijiro’s apartment building.

He takes the stairs easily two at a time, the anger he feels as seeing his own glowering face reflected back at him from a picture on twitter fueling him to damn near leap the steps. If he weren’t inside, he’d be using his explosions to propel him there even faster.

“Shitty hair!” Katsuki yells the moment he lands on Eijiro’s floor, storming down the hallway and slamming his fist into the door. “Open the fuck up, you asshole!”

The door opens under his fist, Eijiro standing on the other side of it and smiling.

“You got here faster than I expected,” Eijiro says in greeting, stepping aside to allow Katsuki to come in.

Katsuki storms inside, barely registering as Eijiro snags the bag of drinks from his hands and trailing the traitorous asshole into the kitchen.

“What the hell is this?” He demands, flipping his phone around to show Eijiro the picture that he posted as if he somehow doesn’t know about it.

The shithead had taken the picture last night before Izuku had gotten there to commemorate or some stupid shit. He’d been excited about being able to be on the show and he wanted a memory of it, but Katsuki had sneered at him the whole time. It wasn’t that he hadn’t ended up enjoying Kirishima being on the show, because he had, but it was that he had a longstanding rule of never willingly being in photos with the squad of idiots who were stupid enough to be his best friends. It had started in their first year at UA and they’d made enough fun of him at the time that he’d vowed to ruin every photo any of them tried to take of him until the day he died.

Back then, they probably underestimated his stubbornness level. They know better now, but Katsuki won’t back down anyways.

“What?” Eijiro shrugs like it’s no big deal. “They wanted proof that you didn’t murder me!”

“And if I murder you now,” Katsuki catches the drink that Eijiro throws at him easily. “Do I have to post a picture of your corpse to prove that I did it?”

“Do you even know how to post?” Eijiro fires back, completely unbothered by the obviously empty threat. “Besides, I feel like one selfie is the last of your worries. Have you not looked at everything else on twitter?”

“Why the fuck does everyone keep asking me about twitter?” Katsuki grumbles, popping the top off of his drink and taking a sip. “Of course I haven’t looked. I hate that godforsaken app. It’s bad enough that I had to look at it to see your ugly mug. Especially when I was about to see it in person in a few minutes anyways,”

Eijiro has the kind of audacity that comes from being entirely unafraid of Katsuki after years at his side and laughs at the quip, shaking his head fondly as he heads deeper into his flat. He has something playing on the TV, the end of some movie that Katsuki vaguely remembers watching with Izuku at some point. He’s pretty sure that Izuku had fallen asleep within the first few minutes of it, because the music sounds familiar but when Katsuki hears it, he just pictures Izuku with his head pillowed against the armrest of the couch, green curls nestled against his cheeks and attempting to blend in with the millions of freckles that call those cheeks their homes.

“Well,” Eijiro says and it startles Katsuki out of the train of thought that he had unknowingly boarded. “If you looked at anything other than my beautiful face,” Katsuki groans and Eijiro laughs again, “You would have seen that the rumors are back.”

“What fucking rumors?” Katsuki flops down on Eijiro’s couch, glancing at his watch to see what time it is. Izuku has a few more hours before he’s off work and is likely to end up at Katsuki’s flat, so he can relax here for a little bit. He drapes his arm over the cushions on the back of the couch. “There’s rumors about me all the time. What is it this time? Did I blow some shit up? Did I cuss out another old lady?”

Normally when Katsuki makes jokes like this, Eijiro just rolls his eyes and chuckles along. He’s still smiling, but the edges of his smile are a little strained, a little less amused than they should be and Katsuki doesn’t know what to think about that. There really are always rumors about him, he doesn’t even bother responding to them anymore. Hell, he barely even lets Kotaro tell him about them. It’s the nature of social media, really. He may not be active on it, but he’s not active for the very simple fact that he understands how that bullshit works and how two words can be twisted so far out of context that nobody would even know what the point was. There is no escaping rumors and so Katsuki had decided to just flat out ignore them and he’d found a lot of additional peace in his life with that.

“The ones about Izuku.” Eijiro finally answers. 

Those are probably the only words that Eijiro could have said that would’ve gotten any response from Katsuki and the look on Eijiro’s face suggests that he knows that.

“What about Deku?”

“Well, the rumors are about you and Izuku.” Eijiro clarifies.

Katsuki feels simultaneously better and worse and it’s a jarring sensation.

On one hand, he would not ever stand for someone shit talking Izuku, so it’s relieving to know that he doesn’t have to go kick some random person’s ass. That would for sure put a damper on the efforts the entire team was making in regards to his popularity. If he got in trouble for cussing out a lady for getting in their way of capturing a villain, he would absolutely get fileted for cussing out some dude on the internet, especially when the internet was permanent.

On the other hand, there’s something purposefully unnamed that stirs in Katsuki’s gut at the words, something that he has ignored for a very, very long time. Something that seems to grow stronger every time someone tries to bring any amount of attention to it.

“That shit again?” He asks quietly, purposefully avoiding Eijiro’s gaze. “What is it this time? Secret relationship? Or did we get married? Are we breaking up? You never know which one it’s going to be.”

The first time the rumors of him and Izuku having a secret relationship had surfaced, there were already rumors that they had been married and were getting divorced by the time Katsuki heard anything about it. He was in the grocery store trying to check out, ball cap low to cover his eyes and hair, jacket shrugged up around his shoulders. He had purposefully been avoiding eye contact with anyone who might recognize him and had selected to do so by studiously staring at all the stupid tabloid bullshit that littered the checkout lanes. And right there, right in front of his goddamn face, was a picture of him and Izuku with a headline about their impending divorce.

If he hadn’t been so focused on keeping his cover, he would’ve blown up the magazine and the entire magazine rack right then and there.

As it was, he never mentioned it to Izuku, though he was certain that Izuku had heard. He’d gotten some lengthy email that he’d scanned the first few lines of addressing the whole situation and Izuku was either cc’d in on it, or a recipient of his own similar email.

“Kats,” Eijiro says, and it’s far too soft for Katsuki’s liking. He didn’t sign up for this shit ever, but he definitely didn’t sign up for it from his best friends. “When are you going to admit it?”

“Admit what?” Katsuki challenges. “That Deku and I are married? It’s fucking news to me if we are. Not that I expect to make a great husband, but if we’re already married then I’ve been an especially shitty one.”

Eijiro, true to form, doesn’t blanch or hesitate. It’s that exact reason, that exact personality trait that made him win. Katsuki over in the first place. If he hadn’t been so damn persistent, they wouldn’t be friends because Katsuki would’ve shut him out ages ago. But Eijiro refused to be shut out, and he refused to acknowledge Katsuki’s feeble attempt at deflecting.

It’s reminiscent of Izuku, in a way, who had the same steadfast loyalty and unwavering belief in him. But it’s entirely different because Izuku was the first person to see him for who he was, the person who has gone through the most for Katsuki and because of Katsuki and still, on the other side of everything, Izuku chooses him above all other options. Izuku is different because it doesn’t feel like winning if Izuku isn’t there. 

“Admit that there’s something to this rumor?”

That gets Katsuki to whip his head around, the cap of his water bottle still in his palm. He nearly pours some of the water into his lap with the sudden movement. “What the hell are you implying?”

Eijiro sighs, but he’s smiling that same, small but fond smile that he always seems to have when Katsuki is being particularly frustrating. “Kats, I’ve been both your friend and Izuku’s friend for a long time.”

“Your point?”

“Do you really want me to say it?”

“How the hell else am I supposed to know what you’re trying to say?” Katsuki challenges. He finally takes a moment to place the cap back on his water bottle and sets it on the table in front of him.

Something tells him that he won’t want to be holding it in his hands for whatever Eijiro says next.

He’s right.

“Fine.” Eijiro meets his gaze directly, his own challenge in his eyes as if trying to remind Katsuki that he asked for this. “I think that you’ve been in love with Izuku since we were in school. I think the reason this rumor keeps coming back is because anyone with eyes can see that you two are crazy about each other. I’ve been watching you pine for almost a decade, man.”

For a brief moment, Katsuki’s brain shuts down and refuses to reboot. All of the words that Eijiro said filter into and then out of his head again without really registering. If pressed, Katsuki isn’t sure he could repeat a single thing that Eijiro actually said, the static and white noise inside his brain the only thing he can actually hear.

And then his brain finally turns back on and the only semi-intelligible thought he’s able to articulate is, “I don’t pine .”

“How long do you have?” Eijiro asks like a cheeky bastard, all sharp angles to his grin. “Because I have hours worth of texts you’ve sent me over the years that I could read to you that say exactly the opposite.”

“Fuck you.” Katsuki spits.

And somewhere, in the dark recesses of his mind that he absolutely refuses to look into, Katsuki knows that Eijiro is probably right. It’s not like he pays much attention to the texts that he sends and nothing specific immediately jumps to his mind, but there’s a nagging certainty that tells him that he’d be cringing pretty hard at some of those texts. That same nagging part tells him that Eijiro probably keeps these texts saved somewhere close so he can keep them at the ready, just waiting for the right moment to ambush Katsuki with them.

“All I’m saying,” Eijiro makes no move to pick up his phone which is sitting in his lap and Katsuki lets out a breath. “Is that rumors like that don’t come from nowhere. And that I think you’d be surprised if you ever bothered to pay any attention to it yourself.”

“You act like I don’t pay attention to it.” Katsuki tries to snarl, but it falls flat. There’s a hesitancy opening up inside of him that makes him feel unsure and that feeling of an uneven ground underneath his feet only amplifies his unease. “You were practically rubbing my face in it last night.”

“I—“ Eijiro looks properly chastised for that, ducking his head. “I’m sorry about that. I know I give you shit about it a lot and I don’t regret it, but doing it publicly like that probably added fuel to this fire. That’s on me and I’m sorry.”

Katsuki appreciates the apology, though he doesn’t find it necessary. He doesn’t give a shit what the public has to say about him— how many fucking times does he have to repeat that before someone actually believes him?— and he could’ve actually shut Eijiro up any time he wanted to. It’s just like Eijiro said: he can take it as well as he dishes it and he’s not afraid to get made fun of a little bit sometimes. By the people who are close enough to him to be allowed to make fun of him, which Eijiro is. 

“It doesn’t matter,” Katsuki answers. “It’s not like the rumor hasn’t come up before without you doing anything. It’s pretty unavoidable. And just like every time in the past, I don’t give a shit what they think. But…” He trails off, feeling uncharacteristically vulnerable for a moment. His immediate response is to try and squash the moment, to cover it up instantly. But he’s grown a lot as he’s gotten older, worked a lot on himself, and found people he can really trust. “You don’t actually believe it, do you?”

“That you and Izuku are dating?” Eijiro echoes, kind enough to not point out the rare moment that he’s witnessing. “Kats, I fucking wish you were. Are you kidding? I know better than to believe it, only because the roles are reversed now and it’s painful to watch you pine.”

“I already told you, I don’t—“

“Yeah, yeah.” Eijiro waves him off easily. “But seriously, Kats. That whole thing you used to say about it being painful to watch me and Ashido interact before we could admit our feelings? That’s what it’s like watching you and Izuku, only multiplying it by however many years it’s been.”

That purposefully unnamed emotion is starting to eat at Katsuki again, starting to try and claw its way up to the back of his throat. He can feel it settling there, can taste the sweetness of it on his tongue. Because it is a sweet taste, whatever it is. It tastes like early morning sun slanting across Izuku’s cheeks, like late nights playing video games together, laughing as the sun fades into the stars and it feels like the entire world except for the two of them is asleep. It tastes like izuku’s laugh— all of his laughs, every single one that Katsuki definitely has not memorized— and the way he says Kacchan with such warmth and familiarity that it feels exactly like all the hugs that Katsuki has been forced into throughout his life, except enjoyable. 

That fucking unnamed feeling really resembles a feeling of home, of belonging, of absolute comfort. It tastes, sounds, and feels like Izuku, and there’s no other way for Katsuki to really describe it. 

“I’m not fucking in love with Deku.” The words feel wrong, somehow, like the shape of them isn’t quite right as he tries to form them. They don’t sit on his tongue the way he would want them to, don’t feel like something he would willingly say again, that unnamed feeling trying to pull them back down his throat before he’s able to keep talking.  “And he’s not in love with me, either. It’s just assholes on the internet doing what they do best.”

“You know,” Eijiro’s gaze is still friendly, if a little surprised. “Before becoming your friend, I would’ve said that it’s impossible to be in love with someone and not know it. But after all these years, you’re really starting to make me think that’s something that can happen. At least with Ashido, I knew I was in love with her, I was just afraid to admit it.”

Katsuki doesn’t know what to say to that, so he picks up his water bottle and throws it across the room. Eijiro catches it easily, setting it down on the table like it’s nothing more than a mild inconvenience.

“I’m not—“ Katsuki finds that he can’t even say the words a second time, like the lodge somewhere in the back of his throat before they make it out of his mouth.

“Just do me a favor,” Eijiro says in that stupidly kind way of his. He really is too nice of a guy, and far too patient for Katsuki and his blunt attitude. “Pay attention to how you feel around him, would you? I think you’d be surprised.”

“I see the damn nerd every fucking day.” Katsuki doesn’t miss the expression on Eijiro’s face as he says that. “I think I’m pretty well versed in how I feel, it’s not like I’m a stranger to seeing him.”

There’s something soft and fond in Eijiro’s gaze and it makes Katsuki’s throat feel tight. He stubbornly turns his gaze away. “Just promise me you’ll pay attention.”

“Yeah, whatever, I promise.” Katsuki says because he wants this whole stupid conversation to end.

@goth_is_nico_confirmed 5 min ago

Do you guys think Deku and Dynamight are /actually/ secretly dating?🙉💚🧡💚🧡💋

🗯3  ↻ 1 ♡11

↳@smallmights1 4 min ago

@goth_is_nico_confirmed no way!!!!! They’re totally just really good friends!!!!😅

🗯0  ↻ 0 ♡2

@rynn_twelve 4 min ago

Putting my clown makeup back on as I jump back on the bkdk bandwagon🤡🧡💚. They’re just so GOOD TOGETHER I’M—🌈💚🧡

🗯17  ↻ 2 ♡21

↳@smallmights1 3 min ago

@rynn_twelve there’s no bandwagon to jump on!! It’s all just totally crazy rumors!!! Definitely no truth to it!!🙃

🗯0  ↻ 0 ♡1

@Aria 3 min ago

I want someone to love me the way Deku and Dynamight love each other🥺💍💌♥️♥️♥️♥️🏳️🌈

🗯4  ↻ 4 ♡65

↳@smallmights1 2 min ago

@Aria I hope you find someone who loves you even more than they love each other as best friends!!!!☺️😺

🗯1 ↻ 0 ♡14

@Stabbysoftbois 7 min ago

DISCRIMINATING taste?? More like DOMESTIC taste tbh🏠🛋️🍱🍜🧉🥂💅

🗯1 ↻ 119 ♡123

↳@smallmights1 1 min ago

@Stabbysoftbois nothing domestic about it!!! It’s just a cooking show!!!!🙅🍳

🗯0  ↻ 0 ♡1

@[lizzy_bon] 3 min ago

Who the hell is @/smallmights1 and why are they so against the idea of bkdk?😒😒😑

🗯12  ↻ 0 ♡16

↳@Kittymotheangry 3 min ago

@[lizzy_bon] I was literally wondering the same thing?? They came out of nowhere and they seem to HATE bkdk😤🧡🍊💥🤝💪🍓💚🌈🏳️🌈

🗯0 ↻ 0 ♡3

↳@zuki_25 2 min ago

@[lizzy_bon] RIGHT? Like??? Listen I’ve been here for bkdk for YEARS. Since the FIRST rumor. And I’ve never seen @/smallmights1 before???😠🤨🤨🧐

🗯0  ↻ 0 ♡2

↳@smallmights1 30sec ago

@[lizzy_bon] I don’t HATE them😣…. I just don’t think there’s anything more than friendship there!!!!🤔😕

🗯0  ↻ 0 ♡0

@jenanigans1207 3 min ago

What’s that phrase? Me thinks you doth protest too much 😬 @smallmights1 

🗯0  ↻ 3 ♡12

It had been a few days since Kotaro’s conversation with Michael but he didn’t feel any better about the situation. 

There had been one single text from Bakugo about the whole thing that simply said: fix this shit . Kotaro had promised him that he would do everything he could— he’d just failed to mention the part that currently there wasn’t much that he could do. 

It still sat wrong with him, the idea that they were playing with the lives and emotions of two other people. Kotaro truly believed that Michael’s intentions were good, but he didn’t seem to be going about it in a way that was helpful or conducive to success. But Kotaro was bound by Michael’s decision if he wanted to keep his job and in a complete turn around from when this whole thing started, he really did want to keep his job.

It had been a little terrifying last week with Red Riot— not that Red Riot was anything other than very kind and polite but just because he was someone new that Kotaro didn’t know well. He had started to develop a routine and an understanding with Bakugo and Midoriya— he could predict what they were going to do or how they were going to react and he could easily understand when they were kidding now. He didn’t actually feel stressed or nervous in their presence anymore, which was something that he never would’ve expected.

Deep down, he knows that their kindness in including him in the meals has helped a lot in that. The first time, he had just assumed it was a fluke or an olive branch to say that they wouldn’t totally ruin what Kotaro was trying to do. But it had been more than once— and he’d stayed out there for almost the entire episode on more than one occasion!

In short, it didn’t feel like he was forcing his way into their company but instead like he was a welcome presence that they were happy to see and that was something he would cherish forever.

Kotaro is lost somewhere in these thoughts when he hears a voice behind him, realizing for the first time that he’s come to a complete stop in the hallway of the agency, blocking the middle of it as he stared unseeing at the ground before him.

“Hero, you okay?”

He recognizes Naoki’s voice immediately, blinking as he glances up to meet their concerned gaze. “Oh,” he says intelligently. “Yeah, sorry. Just a little distracted.”

“I can see that,” They say in response, but their smile is kind and a little amused. “Penny for your thoughts?”

It startles Kotaro, the way they ask so easily and look so genuinely interested. There’s something open and honest in their gaze that reminds him of Midoriya and the way he’s always wanting to be there for people. It makes him want to answer their question.

“I was just thinking about the show.” He says, glancing back down at his shoes. “I’m sure you’ve heard the rumors?”

“Impossible not to, I think.” Naoki answers, coming to stand beside Kotaro and nudge him into action.

His feet moved automatically and instinctively, falling into step with Naoki easily. “That’s the unfortunate part.” He groans. “The rumors are everywhere and I’ve been forbidden from doing anything about it.”

“What?” Naoki is the one who stops this time, turning to look at him surprised. “You have been?”

“Yes. Michael doesn’t want me to confirm or deny the rumors. I think he’s trying to actually set them up!” Kotaro throws his hands up in the air as he talks, his exasperation, concern, guilt all seeping through.

Naoki seems to consider this for a moment, “Well, I mean, they do seem like they have feelings for each other.”

“Even if they do,” Kotaro says firmly, barely registering their words. “It’s not our place to meddle. We— wait, what? You do?”

The sound of Naoki’s laugh is warm and soothing and Kotaro enjoys listening to it. He makes a mental note to try and get them to laugh again in the future. “Yeah. I mean, it’s really easy to see where the rumors come from. You could tell me they had been secretly married for years and I’d believe you, that’s how they come across.”

Kotaro chews on his lip for a second, thinking.

Michael sees it, Naoki sees it, the entire internet sees it. And Kotaro supposes that if he really looked , he might see it, too. He’s been so focused on not being intimidated by them, on earning their trust and putting on a good show that he hasn’t allowed himself to scrutinize their interactions. And it was true that it wouldn’t be his place to meddle, even if he did see it, but now he can’t stop the curiosity from blooming. Is there really something there that everyone but him seems to be able to see?

“How?” He asks after a moment, glancing up at Naoki. “What do they do that makes them seem that way?”

“You seriously haven’t noticed?” Naoki’s eyebrows rise so high they almost disappear into their hairline. “Really?”

“I haven’t been looking.” Kotaro admits easily. 

“Well,” Naoki seems to consider their words carefully. “I think it’s the way they always seem to go back to each other. Like, in a conversation, or physically, they’re always finding each other again. And the dynamic they have— there’s a reason the whole country is eating it up right now. It’s like you can just feel it.”

Kotaro understands the idea in theory but not in practice. Because what if he can’t just feel it? What if everyone is feeling something that he isn’t? As a PR executive, he can’t rely on something like that because feelings are so subjective, so he’s never bothered to look much into that realm. But as a human and a —dare he say it— friend of both Bakugo and Midoriya, he thinks that maybe he’ll have to consider it or at least pay attention to it.

“I see.” He says after considering all the information he’s been given. “Well, thank you . I value your opinion.”

“Are you going to do anything?” Naoki asks, their eyebrows still a little elevated.

“No.” Kotaro answers immediately. “Even if I see what everyone else sees, it’s not my place. That’s what I got mad at Michael over. They’re real people, you know? And if these feelings are there, they’re real feelings. It would be unbelievably cruel of me to try and play those feelings for views or more promotion. I just—“

Kotaro doesn’t finish the end of his sentence, realizing what he was going to say. Naoki seems to realize it at the same time, too. “Want them to be happy?”

“Yeah,” He admits on the end of an exhale. “I do. They’re actually really great people.”

Naoki smiles at him, warm and kind. “They are.” They agree, reaching out to place a hand on Kotaro’s shoulder. “And so are you. It’s great that you’re thinking about them.”

Kotaro shrugs, glancing down and trying to downplay what they’re saying.

But Naoki doesn’t let it go. “They really are. And I feel lucky to know you, too, hero.” They open their mouth to say something more but their phone rings in their pocket. With a glance at the screen, they offer Kotaro an apologetic smile. “Gotta go, hero. But I’ll see you soon!”

They disappear down the hallway, answering the phone as they go and taking some of Kotaro’s breath with them.

Discriminating Taste

Cooking with Dynamight

Episode 5: Chicken Soup 

Follow along with Dynamight’s recipe here!

When the screen fades from black to the image of Dynamight’s kitchen, it’s not the image everyone is used to seeing.

Deku is back, seated in his usual spot behind the counter and smiling as brightly as he can at the camera. Dynamight is in the kitchen, too, with his back to the camera as he stands at the kitchen sink, filling a glass with water.

“Hi, everyone!” Deku greets warmly, waving at the camera and wincing a little as he does so. “I’m sorry I missed last week! I hope you guys had fun with Ei—er, Red Riot! I know he really enjoyed being here!”

Deku does not look good. There’s a bruise blooming across his cheek, so dark that his freckles have almost been completely erased by it. He winces as he moves his right arm, and there seem to be a few scrapes littering his neck and what’s visible of his arms. He’s sitting in a way that doesn’t look particularly comfortable, either, but it's clear that he’s trying to shift as much of his weight to his left side. 

There had been a news story earlier in the week about Deku coming out of some battle triumphant. It apparently closed the case that had kept him off the show last week, which was great news. His fans had been thrilled to see the image of his smiling face on the screen, safe with the knowledge that their hero had taken another threat off the streets. The story had said that it had been a particularly rough fight but no footage of it had been shown. Judging by Deku’s appearance now, the fight had been worse than anyone believed.

The chat jumps to life immediately, thanking Deku for all he’s done and wishing him well. There were endless comments saying they hoped he felt better and that everyone would have understood if he had taken this week off the show, too. His health was most important, after all.

But Deku was Deku, and he was doing what he did best: smiling and trying to downplay his condition so as not to worry anyone. There seems to be a collective remembrance to Dynamight’s words last week, when he had spoken about how Deku always put himself last.

“Here,” Dynamight says and everyone seems to startle, having been so focused on Deku’s condition that they hadn’t even noticed Dynamight moving from the sink.

He offers the cup of water to Deku who takes it with a kind smile before turning back to the counter. But that’s not the end of it— Dynamight continues to stand there with a hand extended into the space between the two of them, fist closed. Deku glances down at the fist and then up at Dynamight’s expression.

“I’m really fine.” He says softly, shaking his head. Dynamight doesn’t respond, instead moving his hand forward so his fist is gently pressing against the front of Deku’s chest. Deku huffs out a fond laugh as he raises his hand, open palm up, and allows Dynamight to deposit something into it. “You always do this.”

“‘Course I do,” Dynamight remarks, crossing his arms over his chest and indicating with a curt nod to the water that’s sitting on the counter now. “You never take care of your own dumb ass, someone has to.”

There’s a slight pink that can barely be seen at the tip of Deku’s ears, covered up by the bruise on his visible cheek as he looks at Dynamight. Still, the emotion is clear in his eyes, in the way his lips part just a little, as if he’s somehow surprised by the attention and the affection even though he’s clearly been on the receiving end of this exact thing many times. The fan base collectively holds their breath and for a moment, it looks like Deku is holding his breath, too. 

“Kacchan,” Deku nearly whines, tilting his head back to look up at Dynamight. His curls fall away from his face as he does so and it makes the bruise on his cheek stand out more. “I can handle myself.”

“I’ll believe it when I see it, nerd.” Dynamight almost smiles at that. “Now fucking drink up and take your pain meds so we can get this show started.”

Deku sighs fondly again but compiles, popping the medicine that Dynamight had given him into his mouth and dutifully taking a few sips of water. When Dynamight continues to stand directly next to him, arms still crossed and expression unimpressed, he raises the glass again and downs the rest of the water without a fight. Finally satisfied, Dynamight takes the glass back, heading towards the sink to fill it again.

Missshadowruby: HELLO????? I’M NOT THE ONLY ONE WHO WITNESSED THAT RIGHT? LIKE I DIDN’T JUST HALLUCINATE THE MOST TENDER ENCOUNTER OF ALL TIME?????(⑉⊙ȏ⊙)💥💪

Slay420: GET YOU A MAN WHO CAN DO BOTH!!!!!!!😫❤️❤️

Styleswonders: DYNAMIGHT CARES FOR DEKU MORE THAN ANY OF US AND THAT IS INDISPUTABLE AT THIS POINT HOLY SHIT🤯🥺😳

Sasussy: THAT— I— I’M NOT SURE I’VE EVER SEEN DYNAMIGHT BE SO GENTLE BEFORE???? 😳🍓🍊

ruby_mikan44 : wbk that Deku gets Dynamight’s best side but the fact that he’s starting to be comfortable enough to show it to US too is just??????( ；∀；)❤️❤️❤️

Dynamight returns a moment later and offers the refilled glass of water to Deku who takes it and sips at it before putting it back on the counter. He looks up at Dynamight expectantly and after Dynamight appraises him for a second, he inclines his head in some sort of acknowledgement and then gestures back towards the camera.

“Okay!” Deku turns back to the camera himself, “Now that Kacchan has decided I’m okay, we can properly start the show! So, again, hi everyone! Thanks for joining us tonight, I’m really happy to be back!”

“You’re just glad you get to mooch more food off of me.” Dynamight quips and they immediately settle into their usual dynamic.

Deku smiles, the edges a little sly as he turns big eyes on Dynamight. “That’s true, but I don’t need the cooking show to be able to do that!” Dynamight maintains a neutral, unimpressed expression as he stares back at Deku. “All I have to do is say please, Kacchan ?”

“Oh yeah?” Dynamight challenges, even though there’s now a hint of pink on his ears. “Try it and see what happens. I’ll lock your ass out.”

“I have a key.”

“I’ll take it. It’s hanging on your stupid All Might lanyard just inside the door, easy enough to hide before I lock you out.”

“Kotaro will let me in.”

“I’ll lock his ass out, too.”

Deku huffs and throws himself dramatically over the counter. “You know, these bruises hurt but nowhere near as bad as all the mean things you say to me, Kacchan.”

Dynamight groans, crossing the room to shove Deku’s shoulder. Deku falls to his side, laughing despite the slight wince as he catches himself with his right arm. Dynamight doesn’t miss the wince, his expression darkening as Deku’s turns to one of apology quickly. Deku raises his arms as he sits back up, as if demonstrating that they’re okay.

“Just—“ Dynamight stalks across the kitchen and yanks open the freezer, slamming it shut almost immediately after with an ice pack in his hand. “Shut up and put some ice on your shoulder while I cook, would you?”

“Yes, Kacchan.” Izuku dutifully takes the ice pack, too, draping it over his right shoulder and seeming to relax at the cool sensation. “What are you cooking, anyways?”

Instead of answering right away, Dynamight begins to spread out the ingredients that had been sitting in a pile in front of him, stacked on top of each other enough that they were hard to distinguish. Deku watches quietly, eyes scanning over the ingredients, a light of recognition beginning to grow behind his eyes as he looks at everything.

“Is this the recipe you got from Sero?” He asks after a moment.

Dynamight nods, turning to address the camera. “Back when we were in school, we had one of our classmates make this recipe for us. You guys know him as Cellophane. His version of the recipe was great— handed down through his family for a few generations. I’ve made a few tweaks to it over the years just to suit my personal tastes a little bit better, as well as this idiot’s tastes as well.”

The last part is clearly meant to be a quip of some sort but Deku either doesn’t hear it or doesn’t care because he’s looking up at Dynamight with something akin to admiration and an overwhelming amount of fondness in his eyes. His lips are slightly parted as he glances back at the ingredients again and then up to Dynamight’s face. Dynamight, for his part, seems to have expected this reaction because he’s not turning to face Deku directly but is clearly keeping an eye on him out of his periphery.

“Don’t make it a big deal, nerd.” Dynamight says quietly after a moment, the mic almost not picking up his words.

Deku swallows visibly and then nods, pressing the ice pack harder against his shoulder as if trying to distract himself. He turns back to the camera himself, offering an explanation. “This is one of my favorite things Kacchan cooks. He always saves it for when I’m sick because it’s really great sick food. It always hits the spot and makes me feel better. Its one of those recipes hehas actually guarded pretty close over the years, so you guys are really lucky that he’s sharing it with you!”

“It’s not technically my recipe.” Dynamight cuts in. “I won’t take credit for shit that isn’t mine. But I checked with Sero and he was fine with me sharing it here.”

Ambrosesebastian : We all agree that Dynamight is making this specific recipe because Deku is hurt, right?? Like it’s not sick but he’s trying to make Deku feel betterლ(◕ω◕ლ)💚💚💚

sea_of_stars: The way Dynamight KNEW this would make Izuku feel so touched and he still chose to do it anyways??? Iconic🤩💚💅

Amie_O: Deku this episode is literally nothing but heart-eyes(๑♡⌓♡๑)🧡💥🧡

“When did you decide to do this?” Deku asks, reaching for his water. “Last we talked about today’s episode, you were planning on making something totally different.”

Dynamight hesitates, his hand stopping halfway to the ingredient that he was reaching for. It’s hard to tell through the camera, but it almost looks like his fingers are shaking a little. He gets it together almost as quickly as he lost it, hands grabbing what he needs and pulling them towards him.

His voice is steady as he answers, “After your mission,”

“And you told me not to make it a big deal.” Deku replies, his words choked with some emotion.

“And I meant it.” Dynamight warns, glancing sharply over at Deku.

Deku shakes his head, his smile wobbly at the edges. “Thanks, Kacchan.”

“Take better care of yourself, asshole.” Dynamight says in response. 

alchemedes: Watching Dynamight and Deku be so stupidly in love makes me want to throw myself out a window(┛◉Д◉)┛彡┻━┻🍊🍓

violetwisteria : Can we all just let that sink in??? He’s purposely making Deku’s favorite to make him feel better. He CHANGED HIS PLANS when Deku got hurt!!!1!!!!1～(つˆДˆ)つ｡☆🧡💚

 nekokun: I literally don’t think it’s possible to love someone more than these two love each other🚢🧡💚

Once the moment breaks and Deku turns his wobbly smile back to his glass of water, Dynamight begins to explain the recipe. It’s easy enough— boiling everything in a pot is the gist of the entire thing. He talks extensively about how long to boil it for, when to remove the chicken to shred it, what parts of the chicken to keep and what parts to remove. The entire time he talks, he cuts the vegetables into appropriately sized chunks, a pan of water sitting on the fire behind him, heating up until it’s boiling. His knife skills are as sharp as ever and he works flawlessly, tucking his fingers to keep them from potentially getting cut. He puts most ingredients in one large bowl, explaining that they’re all going to be mixed together in the end anyways.

After he finishes all his explanations, he turns the table back over to Deku while he finishes the last of the chopping and turns to check on the boiling water.

“There, why don’t you answer some questions? I’m sure they’ve got extra for you since you weren’t here last week.” Dynamight says over his shoulder, fiddling with the settings on the stove.

“Oh!” Deku glances off screen to where everyone knows Kotaro always stands. “Kotaro, can we?”

“Sure,” Kotaro answers immediately.

“Don’t even try this week, Kotaro.” Dynamight says, turning around to look at him. “Just come out here and take a seat. Plus, you should probably read the questions to Deku, don’t let that injured idiot try and use both of his arms for anything.”

“Hey!” Deku protests.

But Kotaro dutifully walks out into the kitchen, moving around the counter easily and sliding into the seat next to Deku. He looks remarkably more at ease this week than he did last week, the familiarity that he has built with Deku and Dynamight obvious. Deku smiles at him as he takes a seat and when Kotaro smiles back, it really looks genuine.

“Does that hurt?” Kotaro asks, reaching out to gently brush his fingers across Deku’s shoulder.

Deku’s answering smile is sheepish as he ducks his head. “Ah, yeah. It does. But that’s okay!”

Dynamight snorts behind him but doesn’t say anything, transferring some of the ingredients over to the counter by the almost boiling pot so he’s ready to dump them in as soon as the time is right.

“I’m sorry you got hurt.” Kotaro says after a moment, withdrawing his hand back to his own side, the tablet forgotten on the counter before them. “But thank you for protecting us. That goes to you, too, Bakugo. Thank you very much. I’m not sure I’ve ever said that.”

Deku and Dynamight wear matching surprised expressions as they both stare at Kotaro, eyes wide with clearly no idea of how they’re supposed to respond to that. Deku glances over at Dynamight and they seem to share a wordless conversation before Deku is breaking out in a grin and throwing himself across the small space between him and Kotaro, slinging his injured arm over Kotaro’s shoulders and pulling him into a hug. Kotaro laughs, his turn to be surprised, but returns the hug to the best of his ability at this angle. 

“That’s so nice, Kotaro!” Is what everyone thinks Deku says, his words muffled into Kotaro’s shoulder as he says them. 

“Okay, okay.” Dynamight crosses over to the two of them, stooping down to scoop the ice pack up off the ground. He places a hand gently on Deku’s chest and pushes him back until he disentangles himself from Kotaro and finds his way back to his own seat, draping the ice pack back on his shoulder. “For fuck’s sake, Deku. Leave you alone long enough and you’re going to hurt yourself giving a hug.”

“That was just—“ Deku’s smile is all soft around the edges again and his eyes are misty as he looks up at Dynamight.

“Fucking hell,” Dynamight rolls his eyes, but he looks so fond it’s almost unbearable to witness. “I know you cry when the other heroes want to meet you but now you’re crying because of Kotaro ?”

Kotaro looks stricken, “Midoriya, I’m— I’m so—“

“No!” Deku interrupts immediately. “No! It’s okay, I promise they’re happy tears. I just wasn’t expecting that. I’ll get it together I swear. Just give me a second.”

Deku ducks his head, swiping at his eyes with his good arm and being obviously gentle against the bruise on his cheek.

Kotaro watches him for a moment before glancing up at Dynamight, “You’re not going to cry because I thanked you?”

The sound that Deku makes is somewhere between a laugh and a sob and his smile is so big it almost splits his cheeks as he raises his head to look at Kotaro. He makes another sound, much closer to an actual laugh this time before he finally laughs outright, some stability coming back to his voice.

Dynamight wears that same impressed and irritated expression, but this time there’s plenty of amusement in it as well. “I think I liked you better when you were afraid of me.”

“That’s not true!” Deku interjects immediately. 

“Well, Red Riot said that the key was just to give you shit back. Thought I’d try it.” Kotaro shrugs, trying to look nonchalant, but there’s a little nervousness still in the lines of his shoulder, the stiff way his spine looks as he sits completely upright.

But then all of it dissolves as soon as Dynamight actually laughs. “That bastard. I can’t deny that I’m impressed.”

By now, Deku seems to have gathered himself back up, but his grin shows no signs of diminishing anytime soon. It must hurt, the way his cheek is scrunched up under his bruise, but he doesn’t even seem to notice it, the sheer happiness that is surrounding him seems to dull out every other sensation he could possibly be feeling. 

“Get to your fucking questions,” Dynamight says, moving back to the stove after one more shake of the head. “Or else we’re going to end up friends or some other equally awful shit.”

“Yes, god forbid you make another friend, Kacchan. You have far too many as it is.” Deku quips.

“Don’t I fucking know it.” Dynamight grins as he begins dumping the ingredients into the pot.

movietalker: NOBODY TALK TO ME EVER AGAIN DYNAMIGHT AND KOTARO ARE BECOMING FRIENDS AND NOTHING ELSE WILL EVER MATTER TO ME AGAIN( ；∀；)✨🎉🍜

FeralAntQueen: Am I the only one who feels genuinely proud watching Kotaro and Dynamight bond??? Like those are my BOYS and they’re FRIENDS(人*´∀｀)｡*ﾟ+🎉🎊

Cosminowl13: The fact that Dynamight isn’t even trying to deny that he and Kotaro are becoming friends is everything to me🤠🙏🎊

“Okay,” Kotaro finally reaches for the tablet, his cheeks tinting a dark pink as he reads the comments. He clears his throat and begins to scroll, finally glancing up at the camera. “If you guys have any questions for either of them, please drop them now. Please try not to flood the chat too much though so I have a chance of actually reading them!”

There’s a moment of silence on screen while Dynamight stirs the soup, Deku sips at his water and Kotaro scrolls through the questions that are rapid-fire filling the screen. It takes a minute for the chat to slow back down but it does eventually, heeding Kotaro’s request.

Finally, Kotaro seems to settle on a question.

stultified_nugget: Dynamight mentioned an All Might lanyard earlier. Deku, do you have a lot of All Might merch?(◔‿◔)💛💙❤️

Before Deku has a chance to respond, Dynamight laughs from his spot at the stove. “I think a lot is an understatement. The damn nerd has been collecting All Might merch since before he could walk.”

“So have you!” Deku fires back immediately. 

“If there is a piece of All Might merch that exists, I bet you Deku has it.” Dynamight continues, undeterred. 

“I don’t have that much.” Deku remarks, glancing down at his hand on the counter before quietly adding. “Anymore.”

“Didn’t you just move most of it back to your room at your mom’s house?” Dynamight isn’t even looking at the camera, the entire center of his world being Deku. “I distinctly remember making eighty-seven trips into your childhood bedroom with boxes of shit before you moved into your flat.”

This time it’s Deku who gets to wear the unimpressed expression. “You’re doing a lot of exaggerating tonight, Kacchan. It was like five boxes, and I carried half of them. Plus,” He adds after a moment, pointing his uninjured hand at Dynamight. “You really do have nearly as much as I do.”

“I absolutely do not.”

Deku raises his eyebrows in a challenge, bracing his okay hand on the counter and starting to push his chair away from it. “Shall I just go grab a few things from your apartment, then? There’s plenty of stuff I could show everyone.”

The challenge that had just been in Deku’s expression is now in Dynamight’s eyes as he makes a point of relaxing his shoulders and looking unaffected.

“I didn’t really see much All Might merch in the other room?” Kotaro says, eyes unfocused as he clearly tries to picture the layout of Dynamight’s house in his head. “I mean maybe a picture or two but that’s about it?”

“See!” Dynamight declares like he’s won.

But Deku just shoots him a look before turning to Kotaro. “There are at least two rooms of this apartment that you haven’t seen.” He says. “And I can guarantee you that there’s All Might merch in both.”

The chat is immediately wild with the idea that both of the top two heroes collect merch at all, let alone for the previous number one hero. It’s fitting, in a lot of ways. There’s not a ton known about their relationship to All Might, but it is a known fact that he was a teacher at UA while both of them were students and that Deku has had some mentoring personally from him. It’s sweet to consider that they would idolize All Might so much, especially when they both knew him personally. 

“Fine,” Dynamight finally concedes. “I have some All Might merch, too. But not nearly as much as the nerd.”

Deku’s smile looks triumphant. 

“Huh,” Kotaro says, glancing between the two of them. “I don’t think I knew that about either of you.”

Dynamight stirs the ingredients in the pot again. “How could you possibly not know that about Deku? If you’ve ever seen him in anything outside of his hero costume, you’ve seen him with All Might merch.”

“Says the person who’s hero name is a reference to All Might.” Deku drops that piece of information like it’s nothing, like it isn’t going to collectively blow the minds of everyone in the room, everyone on the stream, and everyone who watches the episode after the fact instead of live.

He keeps a perfectly smug and content expression as Dynamight whirls on him, clearly unable to decide if it’s more damning to accept that accusation or deny it. In the end he doesn’t really do either, instead making some noise that’s definitely upset but definitely not a word and enough time lapses before he’s able to say anything else, which gives all the confirmation anyone needs. 

“I’ll kill you someday, Deku.” Dynamight finally warns but by now, not a single soul witnessing that threat believes it, least of all Deku. 

In what has to be the most surprising turn of events of all, Kotaro simply laughs at the empty threat instead of immediately trying to deescalate the situation like he has every time in the past. He shakes his head fondly and turns back to the tablet instead, scrolling through questions while Deku and Dynamight continue to make faces at each other.

“Okay, new question.” He hums as he scrolls,

forgivingsummers: Deku, do you have any Dynamight merch?ಡ ͜ ʖ ಡ💥💣🧡

“Oh, of course!” Deku answers immediately. “I actually don’t have nearly as much as I’d like, but Kacchan won’t let me get any more.”

“What the fuck do you need my merch for when you have me instead?” Dynamight answers from where he’s still leaning against the counter next to the stove so he can monitor it. “You want a Dynamight hoodie? Great, wear one of mine. There you go, a one of a kind experience that your nerd ass has to love.”

This time, when Deku blushes, it can be seen through the bruise on his cheek.

apparently_a_robot: DID DYNAMIGHT JUST SAY THAT DEKU *HAS HIM*(ʘᴗʘ✿)🌈💚🧡

steviebanks: DYNAMIGHT OFFERING TO LET DEKU WEAR HIS HOODIE WHENEVER HE WANTS? TO GIVE HIM A ONE-OF-A-KIND EXPERIENCE? NOBODY TOUCH ME༼ ಥ ‿ ಥ ༽✨🧡💚

“Ah, yeah.” Deku clearly tries to pull himself together. “Your hoodies are always the most comfortable. Always nice and warm, too.”

“There you go.” Dynamight says like he doesn’t realize that Deku is having some sort of mental meltdown in front of him. Maybe he doesn’t, the chat concludes, from his angle he can’t really see Deku’s face. But Kotaro can, and Kotaro looks concerned. “So there’s no reason for you to buy my merch.”

Kotaro places a hand on Deku’s shoulder again and Deku turns wide eyes and very red cheeks on him, clearly at some sort of a loss. Kotaro glances between his eyes, trying to read something there. Whatever he sees has him smiling a little as he turns back to the tablet, trying to move on without drawing any more attention to the crisis Deku seems to be having.

sladydyson: Dynamight, do YOU have any DEKU merch?(. ❛ ᴗ ❛.)💚🍓💚

Deku swallows visibly again as he glances over his shoulder.

“Yeah,” Dynamight answers with a shrug. “I’ve got a few pieces.”

“What?” Deku is out of his chair so fast, it’s just a blur on the screen. He’s standing about a foot away from Dynamight before anyone even blinks, his ice pack once again on the ground. “You have my merch?”

Dynamight doesn’t even flinch at Deku’s fast approach, glancing down at him with that carefully neutral expression. “Why are you surprised?”

“Well, I—“ Deku pauses, caught off guard by the question. “You never let me get your merch since I have you in my life so it only seems logical that it would go both ways.”

“Okay, Aizawa,” Dynamight snorts and it earns a smile from Deku. “You still have some of my merch even though I think it’s stupid, so why can’t I have some of yours?”

“What—“ Deku clearly tries to reign himself in, taking a step back to give Dynamight a little bit of space. “What do you have?”

“It figures that your nerd ass would be more excited by this news than the whole of the internet.” Dynamight says instead of answering the question.

But Kotaro, who has been steadily monitoring the chat’s response the entire time, adds, “Oh, the internet is very excited about this, too. And also very surprised that Deku didn’t know.”

“You saw how he reacted,” Dynamight gestures to where Deku is still standing anxiously and excitedly. “That’s why I’ve never told him.”

Deku looks a little sheepish as he smiles, raising his good hand to brush a few of the curls out of his face. “You didn’t answer my question though.”

Dynamight meets his gaze head on for a second before turning back to the stove to tend to the soup, mumbling his answer into the boiling water. “A few of the action figures, a blanket, oh and a fucking apron !”

The last one earns a hearty laugh out of Deku as he looks completely delighted by this entire encounter.

“Oh! I miss one week and I completely forget about the apron!” Deku exclaims. “You should’ve been wearing it this entire time!”

“Too goddamn late, Deku.” Dynamight looks relieved to gloss over the information so easily, but he still looks at Deku’s expression and his own seems to soften at the happiness he finds there. “Now go sit back down. And toss me the ice pack, it should go back in the freezer.”

Deku does as he’s told, using his good arm to throw the ice pack across the kitchen and smiling a little to himself when Dynamight catches it with ease, returning it to the fridge. The soup seems to be done boiling by this point, the indicator of that being the way Dynamight turns the flame off when he returns to the stove. Deku and Kotaro watch quietly as Dynamight explains the next steps: shredding the chicken, removing the skin and fat, and returning it to the pot. He discusses spices and begins dishing up the bowls as he does so. 

Once he’s finished explaining everything, he slides three bowls across the counter before going back for some of the optional spices. Deku adds a small amount to his while Dynamight and Kotaro add a bit more to theirs. Kotaro actually looks comfortable reaching for the spices, smiling at Deku and Dynamight as they all settle in to eat. 

“It’s really hot, though.” Dynamight says, “So you probably have time to answer another question or two before it can really be eaten. Don’t—“ He points a finger at Deku, just an inch away from his nose. “Burn your fucking mouth on this again.”

“Ugh,” Deku makes a discontented noise. “It’s so cruel to give it to me when it’s too hot to eat. You know it’s hard for me to wait!”

“Here,” Kotaro says, reaching over his own steaming bowl to grab the tablet again. “I’ll distract you with a question.”

 leowulf35: What are your lock screens?🧐🤳🤓

“No.” Dynamight says immediately. “Absolutely not.”

Deku, on the other hand, looks absolutely delighted. “They’re matching!”

“Deku,” Dynamight warns.

But Deku, as usual, is not deterred in the slightest. It takes him a second to be able to shift into a comfortable enough position to dig around in his pocket and then he’s pulling out his phone and holding it up. At first, he’s too far away for anyone to be able to make out what it is, but the camera zooms in and suddenly everyone is staring at a picture of Dynamight as a teenager, a begrudging smile on his lips as he makes some symbol with his hands that nobody recognizes. Dynamight— the adult, pro hero one— groans next to Deku, rolling his head back on his shoulders. 

Kotaro leans forward to try and look at the screen. “What is happening here?”

“We used to say we were going to start our own agency.” Deku answers. “The Midoriya and Bakugo Hero agency! And that was going to be our symbol for it.”

“It’s even more embarrassing to hear you explain it.” Dynamight finally rejoins the conversation. “Plus, it was just the Bakugo Hero agency. The other one is too goddamn long.”

“That’s so cruel, Kacchan.” Deku pouts next to him, finally setting his phone back down on the counter. The collective notices immediately— and for the first time, surprisingly— that Deku’s phone case is a Dynamight one. “Cutting me out of it when it was just as much my idea as it was yours!”

“I’m not cutting you out.” Dynamight rolls his eyes. “You can just be Bakugo Izuku so it makes it easier on all of us.”

And, oh.

Oh, even the chat comes to a complete standstill as those words leave Dynamight’s mouth.

Deku is so red that it makes his bruise look light as he stares, wide-eyed at anything except Dynamight. Kotaro’s jaw might as well be on the floor with how far he’s dropped it, and there isn’t even a single word being typed in the chat. The entire universe seems to be holding a collective breath— or perhaps the entire world completely forgot how to breathe. Deku certainly seems to have forgotten how to do literally anything that isn’t just sit shell-shocked. 

Finally, Kotaro is the first one to have any instincts kick back in, snapping his jaw shut and trying to wrangle the situation back under his control. Everyone was right when they said the man didn’t get paid enough to do what he did.

“Is—“ He takes a breath. “Is your background of Midoriya making the same pose?”

Dynamight, seemingly oblivious to the absolute devastation he just caused, lets out a heavy sigh and finally drags his phone out of his pocket. “Yeah.”

Even the camera seems frozen for a second, taking longer than before to zoom in on the image of Deku in UA’s uniform smiling broadly at the screen and making the same symbol with his hands. 

xpaperheartso : I— Did Dynamight just propose or am I having a stroke?

SyndellWins: I can’t even think about the fact that they have matching backgrounds and Deku has a Dynamight phone case because what the fuck just happened???

bkell111 : This is like one of those collective hallucination things, right? Like we all just had the same wild dream and Dynamight didn’t literally just tell Deku to take his last name RIGHT?????

xxxNERDxxx: If this is a dream I don’t ever want to be woken up. Let me fucking die here, I’m happy

“Shitty hair and I were actually just talking about the agency the other day.” Dynamight slips his phone back in his pocket, drawing his bowl of soup a little closer and stirring it to try and get rid of some of the heat.

The mention of someone else seems to finally drag Deku’s brain back from wherever it had wandered off to. He manages a pretty steady, “Kacchan, you have to stop calling him that.”

“When he gets a better hairstyle, I will.” Dynamight replies like it’s the most obvious thing in the world. “Anyway, he was asking me what happened to it. Our agency, I mean.”

Deku’s cheeks are any less red, but he seems to have collected himself back to some normal level of functioning. “Well, we couldn’t start it right out of school, we were sidekicks first. Plus, we weren’t ready to run our own agency. Way too inexperienced.”

“Would you guys still like to do that?” Kotaro asks, the tablet completely abandoned at this time.

“Yeah,” Deku says at the same time that Dynamight gives a pretty genuine, “Sure.”

Deku glances over at Dynamight, smiling a small, fond smile at the words. “We should talk about it again sometime.”

“Sometime,” Dynamight agrees easily. “But for now, eat your soup. It should finally be cool enough.”

And for once, the entire stream is happy to get a break as they eat their food, raving about how good it is because there’s so much that happened that everyone needs a chance to absorb.

Izuku stands at Katsuki’s kitchen sink, the last dish in his hand as he watches the crew start to pack stuff up again. Katsuki’s still in his spot at the counter, scrolling through something on his phone. Thank whatever God existed that the rest of the episode went off without Katsuki saying anything else that would threaten putting Izuku in an early grave. As it was, he wasn’t sure how he had survived that episode. He was going to be replaying Katsuki’s words in his head for the next six years at least, agonizing over each one.

There was also the look that Kotaro had given him when Katsuki had said it all. It was alarmed, but in a completely different way. It was almost as if he was surprised to see something coming true before his own eyes and Izuku can’t help but wonder how many of his feelings Kotaro had been able to read on his face. And if Kotaro had been able to read them, well, the whole internet had probably been able to read them. And there was nothing a fake twitter account could do to get rid of the rumors if Izuku’d had I love you, Kacchan written across every line of his face.

“Oi,” Katsuki’s voice is suddenly right beside him and Izuku jumps so suddenly that he almost drops the soapy dish in his hand. He scrambles to catch it, ignoring the way his shoulder groans in protest. “The fuck are you doing?”

Izuku glances up at Katsuki’s gaze and then almost wishes he hadn’t because he can feel the blush starting to stain his cheeks again. Desperate for anything else to talk about, he glances back to where he had been originally staring, even if his gaze had been unfocused as he’d been lost in his thoughts. The first thing he sees is Kotaro talking to that same person from the lighting crew that Izuku’s seen him interact with a few times. He latches onto it like a lifeline, hoping that the pause hasn’t been long enough that Katsuki has figured out that he’s trying to cover something up.

“Do you see Kotaro and that lighting crew member?” Izuku nods his head in their direction. “I think their name is Naoki.”

Katsuki follows his gaze, shrugging. “Sure?”

“Have you noticed that they seem to keep finding their way back to each other?” And that isn’t a lie— Izuku has noticed that they seem drawn to each other in some way. He feels like every time he looks up when they aren’t filming, he finds the two of them together. It’s not what he had been thinking about, but it is something he was going to talk to Katsuki about eventually so he sinks into his thoughts on the matter and tries to drown out everything else. “I think there might be something there.”

“Are you playing matchmaker, Deku?” Katsuki remarks, his unwavering gaze back on Izuku again.

Izuku feels like he could melt under the weight of it— thinks he might like to do exactly that. “You know I can’t resist.”

“You’re so goddamn soft,” Katsuki says and Izuku thinks it probably should be an insult but the way Katsuki says it, it isn’t. “What’s the plan, then?”

And that earns a smile from Izuku. Because Katsuki always does that— complains about his plans but goes along with them anyway. This isn’t the first time and probably won’t be the last time that Izuku tries to set up people that he thinks are good together. Not that he would ever outright meddle, but just that he wants to encourage interaction to see if anything naturally blooms between them like he thinks it would.

“Next week, you should make an extra serving. We can invite them out to join the three of us.” Izuku says, finally tearing his gaze away.

“What’s next, genius? You want me to feed the whole crew?” Katsuki demands.

“I’m sure they would all love that,” Izuku agrees with a smile. “But no. Just once! I just want to see how they interact together.”

“You know you’d be throwing Kotaro to the wolves by doing it during the show.” Katsuki points out and Izuku hadn’t thought about that. With how preoccupied he’d been with the internet and everything being said on it lately, it was surprising that he hadn’t thought about the internet at all when coming up with his plans.

And he absolutely couldn’t do that to Kotaro. He knew first hand how much it sucked to have his personal life pried into and speculated and the internet already loved Kotaro, they wouldn’t absolutely do the same to him.

“After, then. Invite them up as soon as we stop filming because you made too much.” Izuku pivots mentally, coming up with a new version of the plan that he thinks will work.

Katsuki surveys him for a moment, seeming to scan his expression for something. Whatever he’s looking for, he finds, because he sighs and simply says, “Fine. Now finish the goddamn dishes so we can do something else.”

Izuku is more than happy to oblige. 

It’s barely ten minutes after the show ends when Ochako notices her phone ringing. She is still sitting in front of her computer screen, staring at it with her mouth open, half formed exclamation still stuck somewhere in her throat.

“Hello?” She manages, finally clicking out of the website for the live stream since it ended and the screen has already gone back to black.

“You saw it, right?” Eijiro’s voice fills the other end of the line. “You heard it , right?”

“I know that they’re oblivious, but that’s a whole new level.” She agrees immediately, thankful to have someone else who feels her pain.

“He proposed, Ochako! I mean not directly, but basically. That was a proposal and he didn’t— did you see that he doesn’t even know what he said?” Eijiro sounds frantic on the other end of the line and Ochako thinks he might be pacing around his flat with all the energy he’s exuding. She can relate to it, she feels all of the same unsettled energy in her bones, too.

She turns herself away from her computer entirely. “What are we going to do?”

“What can we do?” Eijiro asks. “We’ve tried everything.”

“Well, we can’t just leave them like this,” She gestures towards the black computer screen, even though Eijiro can’t see her. “We’ve gotta do something.”

“I tried to talk to him. After last episode. I asked him to pay attention to how he feels around Izuku.” Eijiro says.

“And?”

“I don’t know! That’s the last time I saw him and then he just went and proposed on a livestream!” Ochako can just imagine Eijiro gesturing wildly with his hands.

“Okay, we need to calm down. I’ll make lunch plans with Izuku this week and talk to him. We’ll go from there,” Ochako says, already starting to think through her schedule to figure out when they’d both be free. 

Eijiro lets out an audible breath on the other end of the line. “Okay.” He agrees. “I can’t keep doing this, Ochako. They’re going to be the death of me.”

“They’re going to be the death of half the population at this rate.”

Chapter Text

Kotaro had been able to hear the phone ringing in his office before he even opened the door. He was about halfway down the hallway when he heard it the first time. It wasn’t unusual for his phone to ring, especially lately, so he doesn’t think much of it, not even bothering to pick up the pace as he continues towards his office with his arms full. He can call the person back— that was pretty much what he did with everyone. There was always so much to consider that he never agreed to anything on a first phone call. So they could leave all their requests in his voicemail and he would get back them with an answer in the same timeliness as he would have if he’d answered anyways. But it only stops ringing for the length of one heartbeat before it’s ringing again, silencing, and then starting to ring for a third time when Kotaro finally manages to get his hand on the doorknob.

He practically throws his items on his desk as he lunges for the phone, yanking it up to his ear before it manages to stop ringing yet again. He might be used to his phone ringing incessantly but he’s not used to it ringing with literally no breaks in between. He barely manages to find any downtime or peace of mind as it is, he can’t even begin to imagine how much worse things would be if his phone was always like this. 

“Hello?” He says, frazzled and completely forgetting all formality as he tries to catch his lunch from toppling off the edge of his desk where he had thrown it in his haste. He barely manages to pin it against the side of his desk with his fingertips, having to move to prop his hip against it so he can grab it properly.

“Oh, hello.” Someone says pleasantly on the other end of the line and Kotaro thinks he probably recognizes her voice, even though no name immediately pops up at the sound of it. If she can hear how frantic he is, she doesn’t say anything to indicate that and Kotaro appreciates it.  “I was looking to speak to the representative of Dynamight.”

“Yes,” Kotaro says, realizing belatedly that he hadn’t bothered to say any of his usual introductory stuff when he answered the phone. Impressive, honestly, considering how often he jokes that he probably recites those things in his sleep. “Speaking.”

“Oh, great!” The woman chimes on the other end, “I was just calling you to request a formal interview with Dynamight in light of his recent spike in popularity and hugely successful cooking show—“

Kotaro listens to her talk about all the benefits they would have if he agreed to schedule Bakugo, listens to her rattle off dates and times. He even jots a few things down, promising to check Bakugo’s schedule and call her back. It wouldn’t be a bad idea, by any stretch, to get further publicity and to ride the wave of success they currently found crashing around them. But Bakugo was notoriously difficult to convince to participate in interviews like this at the best of times, and Kotaro could only assume that it would be worse now that there were so many people who would be tuning in to see him.

They had worked extensively in a list of questions that Bakugo refused to answer and the list was always provided with plenty of notice before every interview. But that never stopped interviewers from toeing the line and hinting at things without directly asking them. And anyone who knew Bakugo knew that was more than enough to piss him off. If Kotaro thought that Bakugo had walked out on Michael mid conversation an impressive amount of times, that was absolutely nothing compared to the number of interviews he had refused to finish. And something told Kotaro that all the questions everyone would want to ask about discriminating taste would be firmly on the off-limits list, which added to his hesitation to book anything.

Not to mention that Kotaro had to figure out what to do with the last episode. The fact that it aired live meant that there was no way for him to take out the comments that Bakugo had made— the ones that were no doubt about to be the nails in all of their coffins. It also meant that there was no way for him to control or spin the narrative, no story he could weave to try and explain away the comments. And sure, fine, Kotaro had assumed that this assignment would be suicide of his career and had gone into it expecting the worst. And while he had fully expected it to go down in flames, this wasn’t how he had seen it going. He had expected to get beheaded by Bakugo, or to be told to fuck off in no uncertain terms. He had expected an uncooperative nature and instead he’d been gifted with softness, with kindness, and with unbearable fondness. And unexpectedly, that was going to be the thing that ruined them all— the exact thing they had been seeking when they started the show.

Kotaro hadn’t actually looked back at the footage yet, hadn’t been brave enough to. He could still see Midoriya’s face clear as day in his mind, the red that had stained his cheeks a darker shade than Kotaro had thought possible. He really hadn’t seen it before—the underlying tension between them, the words that were permanently unspoken. He hadn’t looked beyond the surface— at least that had been his excuse, but the truth was glaringly obvious now. And that truth was that it was on the surface, too. 

It was on everything, it was everywhere he looked. From the way they laughed together to the way they bickered. From Midoriya’s comfort inside Bakuo’s flat to Bakugo’s obvious comfort with him being there. Kotaro couldn’t look at any memory in hindsight and not have it tainted by this new knowledge. 

Maybe he hadn’t seen it because he had known the amount of trouble it would cause him or maybe he hadn’t seen it simply because he didn’t want to or didn’t think it was possible. He had unfairly judged Bakugo a long time ago and had never made any attempt to change that opinion. And while it was true that Bakugo had certainly made no attempts to improve Kotaro’s opinion of him, he could look at those memories in hindsight too and see how wrong he had been. He had let the general consensus on Bakugo’s personality take up too much space and given himself no chance to form his own opinion. Because he would’ve liked Bakugo a lot sooner if he had, would’ve seen in him what he sees now— what Midoriya has always insisted was there. 

He feels bad about it now, honestly. It is his job to know Bakugo well, after all, so he’s able to represent him accurately. And from a PR standpoint, Kotaro could say with no uncertainty that he had been doing a subpar job and letting Bakugo down. But for a personal standpoint, he had been denying them both something he genuinely was starting to believe could be a friendship. And he didn’t know which was worse. 

Which was why his jaw had nearly hit the ground when he’d come to the realization that had been smacking everyone else in the face for so long. It was why he still felt his stomach drop to his feet every time he thought about it only to have the word love play on repeat in his head, an echo of a truth that only two people seemed to still be unaware of. He could only imagine that his face had been similarly as shocked as Midoriya’s and if that were the case, there really wasn’t a single thing he could say to defend the situation. At that point, his only option was to let the fan’s narrative take it where they wanted to and to plan damage control.

Kotaro was no novice at putting out fires but in the past he’d been handed an extinguisher to put out a candle. Now he’s got a half filled cup of water up against a forest fire. He hasn’t even opened his computer to face the fire yet and he can already feel the heat of it, licking up his spine and burning away any hope he had started to gain of surviving this whole ordeal. Kotaro knows a losing battle when he sees one and it looks a lot like all the comments he knows are swirling around on social media. 

It also sounds a lot like the incessant ringing of his phone as every news station in the area gets their hands on those clips and starts looking for statements.

The only fair thing Michael had done in light of this entire situation was acknowledge that the time spent on the cooking show was time spent working. Which meant that he gave Katsuki and Izuku— though Katsuki specifically— more leeway with their schedules. If they didn’t have something important happening first thing in the morning, or there were too many heroes out on patrol, he allowed them to come in late or leave early without saying anything more than a casual greeting or goodbye in passing. 

Katsuki by nature didn’t like being late, but he knew that he didn’t have a single goddamn thing going on today. He had just recently closed a case and a few other heroes had returned from a mission out of the city, leaving them overpopulated. And since there hadn’t really even been a whisper of criminal activity in the last few days, Katsuki didn’t mind turning his alarm off and curling back into the warmth of the sheets around him.

He was still on the hazy edge of sleep, the world bleary around him as he rolled over and shoved Izuku at least an arm’s length away so he had some space to exist. The damn nerd was always complaining about being cold and their entire lives that had manifested in him scooting towards Katsuki in his sleep, drawn in by Katsuki’s perpetual warmth. Izuku didn’t so much as groan as he rolled onto his back, shifting a little to get comfortable in the new position. In the half-asleep state that Katsuki was in, he still knew that Izuku hadn’t woken up at all from that. 

In general, Izuku was one of the lightest sleepers Katsuki had ever met. Even one single peculiar sound would have him leaping out of bed, already ready to fight. But when it was just the two of them in a familiar place, waking Izuku could be like waking the dead. When he was comfortable with his surroundings and felt particularly safe, he was just as deep of a sleeper as he could be a light sleeper. How much he moved in his sleep was always an indicator to Katsuki about how Izuku felt at any given location or about the people they were with. It was something that hadn’t taken him long to piece together, but then again he had years upon years of experience of sharing beds, tents, floors with. All he had to do was spend two seconds looking to see the pattern.

He blinks his eyes open again, knowing that he can’t outright fall back asleep. He may have a little bit of wiggle room, but he couldn’t and wouldn’t abuse it. It takes him a minute to stop squinting at the sun that streams through the curtains they had forgotten to close the night before but when he finally gets his sight, all he sees is the beams of light illuminating the freckles on Izuku’s cheeks, kissing them softly with a warm, golden glow. 

It really strikes Katsuki sometimes, just how much they have both grown. From childhood friends to middle school enemies, back to tenuous friends in high school to completely inseparable now. From a kid who swore he’d be number one to the kid who didn’t even have a chance of being number one to the adults they were now— and the fact that being number two didn’t sting like he expected it would since the only person who was ahead of him was Izuku.

Because Izuku had always been ahead of him— leaps and bounds ahead of him for most of their lives. That was the truth of it laid bare. Izuku hadn’t caught up to him and he damn sure hadn’t surpassed him, he’d just always been in the front. And while Katsuki had been a petty asshole of a kid, always trying to leave Izuku behind, Izuku had never been anything but unfailingly kind, always waiting for Katsuki. And it had taken Katsuki damn near two decades to really swallow that pill, but he had and he found that it didn’t taste all that bitter.

If he were to actually look back on their past, it wasn’t hard for him to see the truth: he had to try to hate Izuku. He had to tell himself that Izuku was looking down on him, that he was unworthy for being quirkless. Hating Izuku wasn’t just a conscious choice, it was continuous effort. And it was exhausting. Unbearably exhausting, actually. But Katsuki had been raised being praised for his quirk, being told how strong he was going to be, how many fights he was going to win. And when he was too young to see the bigger picture of the world, to understand the real importance of relationships, the nuances of emotions, he was terrified of the idea that a quirkless kid could be better than him. He had expectations to live up to and so he had put Izuku down, tried to shove him into a mold that he had never fit into. 

But Katsuki stopped being that kid a long time ago. He’d practically gone to hell and back more than one time, had seen the darkest parts of society and the darkest parts of his own heart. And the one thing he saw no matter where he went was Izuku shining like a beacon, drawing him back to the light. Even when Katsuki was at his worst, when the world was at its worst, when Izuku was at his worst, he was always there, smiling and with a hand extended. 

Katsuki remembers one day in middle school when he had been particularly awful to Izuku— awful enough to get them both called to the principal's office. He had been lectured up and down about his behavior and how unbecoming it was of a future hero, not that he had given a shit at the time. Their principal had followed it up by asking Izuku what he wanted to do with his future— something Katsuki had found vindicating at the time because it was more proof that a quirkless kid couldn’t be a hero— and Izuku hadn’t even hesitated before he answered with a simple be kind . 

At the time, Katsuki had scoffed and rolled his eyes, refusing to accept what was clearly meant to be a direct shot at him. But those words had stuck with him ever since, had rung in the back of his head year after year after year. And now he can see the memory clearly and with a perspective his middle school self hadn’t had. Now he can see that Izuku wasn’t taking a dig at him— he was stating that he never wanted to let his spirit be broken. In the way that All Might smiled in the face of any danger, Izuku wanted to remain kind in the face of every harsh injustice of the world. Where that damn nerd finds darkness, he leaves light. And where he finds cruelty, he leaves behind kindness. He had never been talking down on Katsuki— not once ever in their lives— but had instead just been trying to bolster his own confidence. 

And now he’s the number one hero, beloved by the society he had sacrificed himself to protect. For so many years, Katsuki had been the sole witness to Izuku’s tendency to light himself on fire to keep the others around him warm. For so many years, Katsuki had been the only one who could recognize Izuku’s false smiles as the masks that they were. For so many years, Katsuki had been the one to pick him back up, bruised, battered, and broken after the world had tried to chew him up and spit him out. But where the world is unrelenting, Izuku is determined and incorrigible. And while nobody else would ever have the insight into him that Katsuki did, the world at least saw him now— and they appreciated his dedication. 

It almost feels weird to think, but Katsuki’s proud of him— of both of them. Proud that they made it out of so many bad spots, proud that they found their way back to each other’s sides over and over again. He’s proud that they learned how to talk with (mostly) their words instead of their fists. He’s fucking proud that they broke the molds and expectations that they had grown up under— that Izuku had become the hero he had always been destined to be and that he, himself, had learned the value of things besides his quirk and victory. For so many years, Izuku had been insisting that they were central to each other’s lives and Katsuki had vehemently denied it. He wouldn’t deny it any more. 

Fuck, he couldn’t deny it. He had tried and tried and tried. And then a building had been collapsing and he had leapt in to cover Izuku’s body with his own without thinking. It had been a training exercise and Izuku hadn’t been in any serious danger, but Katsuki’s fight or flight had kicked in and the only thing he’d been able to do was protect. The injuries he’d sustained had been worse than the ones Izuku would have sustained if he hadn’t intervened and Recovery Girl had been thrilled at her chance to finally dress him down with a good lecture. Usually he got off with just mild enough injuries that she couldn’t scold him the way she scolded Izuku, but the opportunity had presented itself and she hadn’t hesitated. 

Despite the fact that they had both been fine ultimately, it wasn’t a good memory for Katsuki. While this logically should have been the final turning point for their relationship, it wasn’t. In fact, it was the last time Katsuki had really doubled down on his fake dislike of Izuku, lamenting about how the damn nerd was still too useless to protect himself, how he was always causing Katsuki trouble, how he never should’ve been there in the first place, he had grown enough at that point to know he didn’t mean those things, but not enough to stop him from saying them. Change was terrifying and Katsuki was a coward, and those words still haunted him to this day. 

But Izuku was the same person he had always been, steadfastly sitting at Katsuki’s bedside until he was discharged, bringing his homework and sneaking in his favorite snacks behind Recovery Girl’s back. He also accepted the apology Katsuki later gave him with no hesitation whatsoever, sweeping yet another one of his transgressions under the rug. Because Izuku saw the best in Katsuki, even when he was at his worst. And it was that— and only that— which allowed Katsuki to see even a glimmer of the good inside himself. 

So, despite the fact that Izuku was a warmth-seeking blanket thief, Katsuki would choose to start his day off like this every day, without fail. They fought tooth and nail, traded fists and kicks, laid bloody and bruised at each other’s feet for this. They yelled and screamed and cried, pushed and shoved and tugged. It wasn’t graceful and it damn sure wasn’t pretty. But they got here, and there wasn’t a single thing on this god forsaken earth that Katsuki would give Izuku up for now. 

If there was anyone or anything that tried to come between them, they better prepare. Because the way Katsuki treated Izuku would look affectionate compared to what he would do to anything stupid enough to try to come between them. 

Izuku stirs next to him, actually waking up this time. He rubs at his eyes, fighting against the vast majority of the comforter since he’d stolen it from Katsuki in the middle of the night. The light that dappled his cheeks now illuminated his green eyes as he squinted over at Katsuki, smile warmer than the little nest Katsuki had created in his side of the bed.

“Mornin’ Kacchan,” Izuku mumbles, flipping on his side to face Katsuki directly. 

Somehow, despite everything that tried to pull them apart, they found themselves here. Katsuki feels warm inside, feels unbearably content to realize that this isn’t the life he’d imagined for himself, but it’s so much better. 

“Nerd.” He answers in greeting. 

@Yvette_Kaitou_1412 2hr ago

When I lay down to sleep at night, I still hear ‘Bakugo Izuku’ replaying over and over in my head,🫠😸

🗯0  ↻ 147 ♡876

@Frostie_bites 1hr ago

Seriously there’s fruity and then there’s whatever the fuck Dynamight and Deku have going on❤️🔥🌈🌈🌈

🗯2  ↻ 10 ♡45

     ↳@Sugar_and_sp1ce 56min ago

     @Frostie_bites what’s more gay? Being gay or whatever the fuck Dynamight and Deku are doing?👀🌈🌈🌈💋

     🗯0  ↻ 5 ♡21

     ↳@VoidBerenis 50min ago

     @Frostie_bites fellas is it gay to give your best friend your last name? Asking for Dynamight🙊🌈🌈🥸🤦🧨🧨

     🗯0  ↻ 7 ♡19

@Ariqua 47min ago

If I hadn’t watched that happen with my own eyes, I would truly believe it was just another one of those popular fanedits. Never in my entire life would I have believed that was real🤷🌚🌝

🗯0  ↻ 1 ♡8

@Twixxy_o 40min ago

tbh the fact that I’ve been watching discriminating taste since the beginning is something I brag about💁💅💅💅

🗯1  ↻ 11 ♡53

@EmoQuilt28 40min ago

So what are we thinking here? Secretly dating? Or both just pining so hard it’s physically painful to watch?🥴🫣🫣

🗯5  ↻ 0 ♡18

     ↳@Alphabetsoupp 37min ago

     @EmoQuilt28 after last ep, I’d believe secretly MARRIED👨❤️👨💍🤫🤫🤫

     🗯2  ↻ 1 ♡4

         ↳@Bunnybtheangry 35min ago

         @EmoQuilt28 @Alphabetsoupp no way, it has to be pining. Did you see how RED Deku got? That was the face of someone who was not prepared for their crush to return their feelings(@_@)😳😳😳

         🗯1  ↻ 9 ♡7

             ↳@CrystalHopeDragon 33min ago

             @EmoQuilt28 @Alphabetsoupp @Bunnybtheangry I have to agree with pining, as crazy as it is. They clearly don’t have their shit together enough to be actually dating🤡🌈🤡

             🗯0  ↻ 0 ♡3

@Macksmilesback 21min ago

Guys we should just be happy that they’re sharing any part of their lives with us and stop asking for more. Remember, they’re real people with a real friendship!!!😳🫣😶🌫️

🗯1  ↻ 11 ♡34

     ↳@smallmights1 1min ago

     @Macksmilesback yes thank u!!!!! 🥺🙈

     🗯0  ↻ 0 ♡2

The only thing Izuku had been able to do when Ochako had called him was to beg that she didn’t make him go somewhere public.

Honestly, he was surprised that she hadn’t jumped straight into things over the phone, but he was also grateful for it. Mostly because Katsuki was moving about the rest of the night as if it had been nothing more than a normal episode of the cooking show and Izuku had somehow managed to bury all the things that he’d said deep down— deep down. If Ochako had said even one thing that so much as hinted in that direction, the very thin string of control Izuku had tying his thoughts up and holding them out of sight would snap in an instant and he didn’t know what he would do.

So when Ochako called, he begged her not to make him go somewhere public and then he promptly agreed to whatever it was that she suggested so that he could get off the phone with her as fast as possible. Now that he’s standing in front of her door, hand poised to knock, though, he sort of regrets his decision. If he were somewhere public, she would have to be much more discreet in her questioning and Izuku might be able to use the fact that they were surrounded by people to avoid answering some of her questions.

Like this, the only option he has is to dive straight into a conversation that he does not want to have.

He’s just considering turning on his heel and sneaking out without ever knocking, calling Ochako and putting on some terribly fake cough as he pretended to be sick so he didn’t have to talk to her, when a hand lands on his shoulder. Izuku goes stiff until he glances over his shoulder to see Shoto standing there, hint of an amused smile on his face.

“You know that she would track you down.” Shoto says in lieu of any sort of greeting. “She absolutely would not believe that you were sick.”

Izuku sighs, the tension starting to drain from his body in what could only be considered defeat. “Is it that obvious that I was considering running?”

“Yes.” Shoto answers before removing his hand from Izuku’s shoulder and using it to reach forward and rap his knuckles against the door.

Izuku has about two seconds to try and brace himself again before the door is being pulled open and Ochako is smiling at both of them, beckoning them inside. Her eyes find Izuku immediately and he can read every question he knows he’s going to get dressed down with in a matter of minutes in her expression but she at least has the decency to greet him normally, allowing him to kick off his shoes before he trails her further into her place. 

Even before he makes it into the kitchen he can smell the food that’s cooking and it smells delicious. 

He says as much and Ochako hits him with her signature smile that has him considering running for the hills again. “Thanks, though I’m sorry it won’t be as good as Katsuki's cooking.”

Izuku might be the number one hero, but he isn’t honestly sure he could win in a fight against Ochako if she were truly mad at him. If he turned on his heel right now and sprinted out the door, he had no doubt that she would be on his heels in a matter of seconds and any hope he had of escaping would die faster than the yell that would rip from his throat as she caught up to him.

“Really, Ochako?” He says instead, sulking as he plops down in one of the chairs at the kitchen counter. “You couldn’t even get through five minutes?”

“No,” She answers simply. “You’re lucky I didn’t start questioning you in the hallway while you were considering being a coward and running.”

Izuku groans and pillows his head on his arms, hoping that Ochako will spare him even a little bit. He doesn’t look as the chair next to him makes a scraping sound, followed by shuffling that had to be Shoto taking his own seat at the counter. 

“You knew this was going to happen.” Shoto almost murmurs next to him. “And you also know she’s scary when she doesn’t get her way.”

Ochako makes a displeased noise. “If you weren’t trying to get him to talk to me, I’d be mad at you for that statement.”

“See?” Shoto says. “Scary.”

That at least earns a snicker from Izuku as he finally pushes himself back upright. Ochako has taken up a spot on the opposite side of the counter, more in the center of the kitchen than either him or Shoto. The food that she’s cooking is in the oven so it doesn’t currently require any of her attention, though Izuku desperately wishes it did. Anything to get her unwavering gaze off of him would be welcomed at this point in time.

“Alright, let’s get it over with.” He sighs, holding up his hand so he can tick each thing he says off on one of his fingers, making his points. “No, Kacchan and I are not secretly dating. No, he did not mean that comment the way it sounded last episode. Yes, I know the playlist is full of love songs, okay? You can stop mentioning that one. And no , there are no secret feelings. On either end.”

“Okay.” Ochako holds her own hand up as she responds in kind, acknowledging each thing he said. “I believe that, but I think you’re both stupid for it. How the hell else could he have possibly meant that? Honestly. I want you to tell me what on Earth he could’ve meant by calling you Bakugo Izuku in front of the whole world.” She takes a deep breath, fixing him with a firm stare as she continues. “I’m glad you’ll at least admit the love songs, but I won’t let that go. And that last one is a bold-faced lie, Izuku. We all know it.”

“It’s not a lie!” Izuku throws his hands up in the air. 

Ochako shakes her head. “We’ll come back to that one in a moment. Let’s go back to the proposal.”

Izuku nearly chokes on the breath he takes in sharply in response to that, clutching the edge of the countertop in an attempt to keep himself upright as he dissolves into a series of coughs. “Proposal? Ochako it wasn’t a—“

“He gave you his last name!” Ochako cuts in, unconcerned with the strain in his voice as he finally starts to get his breath back. “Izuku, I love you and I know how dense you are— I’ve been dealing with it since I first met you. But there is no other explanation for that.”

Izuku can’t see himself but he can feel how red his face is. He desperately hopes that it looks like it just came from the coughing and isn’t related to the idea of Katsuki proposing to him. Because that’s— that’s—

Well, that’s not the worst thought Izuku has ever had. And he feels the flame in his cheeks triple as he realizes that the thought doesn’t sit poorly in his stomach at all. He desperately needs to get his mind off of this train of thought before something dangerous happens.

“You have to understand,” Izuku tries to keep his voice steady as he talks. “Kacchan doesn’t think like that. To him it was a simple transition of the original name for the agency being too long to his stubborn nature of refusing to give up his last name, to suggesting that we both just use it so that way the shorter agency name works. There’s nothing hidden behind it!”

Silence follows his words and Izuku struggles to not look at either of his friend’s expressions because he doesn’t think he’ll be able to bear what he sees there. He really doesn’t think that Katsuki has any idea how it came across. They’d had that argument a lot as kids— that they should just pick one name to use for the agency and both agree to represent that name. And sure, when they were kids, they didn’t understand what that meant or how that came across. And sure , they weren’t kids anymore and as adults they could both properly comprehend the general implications of a statement like that, But because it was rooted in a decision that had been made as innocent kids, they were able to overlook the conventional meaning of something like that.

It really wasn’t like that. Izuku was sure of it, even if it made his stomach twist in knots at the thought.

“I do think Katsuki is dumb enough to propose without realizing it.” Shoto finally says with a shrug and it has Ochako laughing instantly. 

Even Izuku can’t resist a slight twist at the corner of his lips. “Don’t ever say that to him.”

“Of course not.” Shoto replies easily. “I don’t think I should be the one to tell him that he proposed in front of half the country.”

“He didn’t propose!” Izuku exclaims again, feeling the overwhelming need to smash his head into the counter.

He was a pro hero now, no longer a student, but that didn’t stop Recovery Girl’s voice from echoing in the back of his head any time he hurt any part of his body. It also didn’t stop her from popping in from time to time after a mission to make sure he was heeding her warning. And she was scary when he hurt himself for some good cause— he could only imagine what it would be like to tell her that he injured himself in a futile attempt to convince his friends that his lifelong best friend wasn’t in love with him. 

“Why are you so flustered about this?” Ochako finally manages to collect her laughter enough to resume her twenty questions. “If you didn’t either think that there was some truth to the idea that he proposed or if you didn’t have secret feelings for him, this wouldn’t bother you so much.”

“Or both.” Shoto adds with Ochako pointing a finger at him in emphasis.

Izuku chooses to ignore Shoto’s addition entirely. “So you’re saying if I did something like that to you, it wouldn’t bother you?”

Ochako considers his question for a moment. “I’m saying that you wouldn’t do something like that to me because you don’t have feelings for me.” She answers after a moment. “And if you did, I wouldn’t be flustered. I’d be confused and probably annoyed, but I wouldn’t be so red that my freckles disappeared completely.”

This, of course, serves to only make Izuku turn more red, no matter how impossible that may have seemed before. 

“It’s true, I can’t imagine you doing something like that.” Shoto agrees. “I can’t imagine anyone doing something like that. It’s—“

“Weird!” Ochako finishes for him. And then turns wide eyes to Izuku and rushes to add. “But not in a bad way! I just mean that it has  to be indicating something else!”

But the thing is that it isn’t. Ochako has been saying stuff like this to Izuku since school, pointing out all these things that Katsuki did that just had to mean something. She would be insistent every time, going into great detail about each and every thing he did and what it probably meant. And then days passed, weeks, months, years and Katsuki still hadn’t ever actually indicated that he had any sort of feelings for Izuku other than friendship.

And Izuku would take that friendship— he would take it and cherish it like his most prized possession because that’s exactly what it was. He would not ever complain about the gift that was Katsuki’s presence in his life and he would never ask for more because there was a time when he wasn’t sure he’d even get that much. But there’s a small part of him that can’t deny that high school him had been hopeful that there was some truth to Ochako’s words, that there was some hidden message that he wasn’t seeing. Especially in their final year at UA, when he and Katsuki had really transitioned into a solid friendship, having made leaps and bounds of progress.

They had taken so many steps forward that Izuku had almost thought, what's one more ? It had been clear to him from a very young age that he couldn’t imagine his life without Katsuki and so one further step— a step past friendship and into something more had almost seemed natural.

But it had never happened and Izuku had to force himself to shove down any and all thoughts surrounding it.

“How many times do we have to go through this?” Izuku sighs, decidedly steering his train of thought away from all ideas of Katsuki hiding feelings for him or proposing to him. 

“Why won’t you just admit that you have a crush on him?” Ochako asks the question over her shoulder as she turns to check the food in the oven. But even though her back is to Izuku, he knows that he’s got her full attention and she will notice if he doesn’t answer. “I get not wanting to admit it publicly or even not wanting to admit it to Katsuki, but we’re your best friends and we love and support you no matter what. You can at least tell us.”

“But there’s nothing to tell!” Izuku insists, glancing at Shoto for support. Shoto offers him nothing more than half a smile. “I’m not honestly sure I’ve ever had a crush on anyone. Maybe I’m just incapable of love!”

Ochako stills in front of the stove, turning to stare at him wide-eyed over her shoulder. “You’re seriously going to tell me you’ve never had a crush before?”

“Yeah?” Izuku draws his eyebrows together in confusion of her response. “I really don’t think I have. Like the idea of spending every day with someone, or dropping everything for them or— “ He pauses, trying to think. “I don’t know, just all the stereotypical stuff people talk about with crushes. I don’t think I’ve ever experienced it.”

The look that Ochako and Shoto share is long suffering and even Izuku can read the tortured edge to their gazes. 

Ochako takes in a deep breath to steady her, but it’s actually Shoto that asks the follow up question. “So, to you, having a crush on someone is wanting to spend every day with them? And dropping everything for them? Or putting them first, in other words?”

Izuku glances between their expressions. “Yes, why? Is that wrong?”

“No,” Ochako cuts in. “No, that’s right. But what else? What else do you consider a stereotypical crush thing?”

Despite the fact that Izuku has no idea what they’re getting at with this clearly pointed line of questioning, he obliges anyways, He pauses, thinking back to their years in high school, thinking of watching Kotaro and Naoki interact. He’s very certain that there’s something developing there, but what is it that makes him feel that way? What did his classmates do when they had crushes that gave away their feelings?

“Well,” He says after a minute, gaze still unfocused as his mind runs through different ideas. “I guess it’s always wanting to be close to them? Like physically. Always sitting or standing by each other. Or finding excuses to touch. And giving little gifts? Maybe? I distinctly remember Kaminari buying him and Shinso matching jackets at one point. Also, things like museum dates? Or getting their favorite foods for them, like crepes!”

Silence follows his words and Ochako is looking at him like she’s trying to force something into his skull by sheer force of will. 

When Izuku doesn’t say anything else, staring at her with a confused expression instead, she groans and runs a hand through her hair.

“Okay.” She says one more time. “Let’s recap. You just tell me if I’ve got this right. Having a crush on someone is wanting to spend time with them, wanting to be close to them, putting them first, giving them gifts, sometimes even matching with them. Is that the gist?”

Izuku hesitates before answering.

“Like the way you spend almost every night at Katsuki’s house?” Ochako continues, undeterred by Izuku’s lack of an answer. “Or the way you and him can always be found together? Giving gifts like when you guys exchanged house keys? Or all the times Katsuki cooks for you? And matching , Izuku, really? You’re going to look me in the eyes and say having matching things is a sign of having a crush a day after your matching background with Katsuki got him to nearly propose to you and you’re going to tell me that you don’t have feelings for him?”

Okay. Well. When Ochako puts it all like that—

“It’s not—“ But Izuku isn’t sure what he’s supposed to say to that.

Because Ochako does have a point, as groundbreaking as it might be. But then again, he’s always done those things with Katsuki, ever since they were kids. Those kinds of behaviors were the foundation of their friendship, the thing that tied them together even when they were at their worst. That's just how he’s always been with Katsuki. And if those are signs of having a crush on someone, and he’s always been that way with Katsuki, then that would mean—

“No.” He shakes his head, feeling it throb a little, the bruise on his cheek a little tender with the motion as well. 

“You’ve never had a crush on anyone else .” Ochako emphasizes. “You’ve never felt that way about anyone other than Katsuki. I dare you to look me in the eyes right now and tell me one thing you would pick over Katsuki. Just one. I’m willing to wait all afternoon.”

Izuku wracks his brain but it comes up glaringly empty under Ochako’s scrutiny, because there really isn’t anything he would pick over Katsuki. He wouldn’t even pick his own life over Katsuki— something that had been a point of contention between them several times in the past. Because what was the point of his life if he didn’t have Katsuki in it?

What was—

“Oh my god.” Ochako mumbles.

Shoto leans a little closer to his side. “He might finally be getting it.”

Izuku had never had a problem admitting that one of the central parts of his life had always been Katsuki. From when he was a child who looked up to Katsuki to when he was a teenager who knew there was more inside Katsuki than he let on, Izuku’s focus had always been on Katsuki. And he had been blessed to be given the gift of walking in step with Katsuki instead of always trailing behind him but that didn’t have to mean anything. 

But then again, Izuku does show up at Katsuki’s pretty much every day, only stopping at his own place from time to time to do some laundry. And even that was becoming less frequent since Katsuki had gruffly pointed out that he, too, had a washer and dryer and there wasn’t really a need for Izuku to go all the way home to wash his clothes and his hero uniform. But it was just convenience— it was easier for him to have his clothes at Katsuki’s house because— because—

The more Izuku inspected it inside of his head, the more the excuses he had used over the years fell apart in his hands. The more he looked, the more holes he poked and suddenly there wasn’t anything that made any amount of convincing sense except what Ochako was saying to him. Twenty-five years of his life down the drain in the meter of one conversation and Ochako is looking at him like she didn’t just take everything he’s known for literally his entire life and rip it out from underneath him. 

“Okay,” Izuku says uncertainly. “Maybe in high school I had a bit of a crush on Kacchan.”

“Izuku.” Ochako says his name like an exasperated warning.

“But— But that’s back when things were uncertain and we were figuring it out. And now—“

“ Izuku .” She says his name more sharply this time.

The words die on his tongue but Izuku thinks that he might actually just throw up. He's never regretted not running away from something more than he regrets not sprinting down the hallway, even after Shoto caught him. Ochako may be able to kick his ass but he would take that over whatever was happening now because this had to be one of the worst things he’d ever been subjected to.

“No,” He says feebly. “We worked so hard to build a friendship from ashes, Ochako. I can’t— I won’t give that up over something else. That friendship is too important to me.”

“First of all—“ Ochako starts to say.

But a hand lands on his shoulder and Izuku finds himself looking into mismatched eyes as Shoto says, “Katsuki would never give up your friendship either. No matter what either of you ever said, I’m certain that he’d never just walk out on you.”

Something inside Izuku breaks a little at the statement.

Ochako’s tone is a lot softer as she agrees. “Of course not. Katsuki would never leave you behind. You know that, don’t you?”

And yeah, Izuku knows that. He really does. There’s still the tiniest, smallest part of him that hides in the back of his mind and kicks and screams, insisting that he was able to push Katsuki away once when they were in middle school, he’d be able to do it again if he pushed hard enough or started acting weird enough. And coming to a realization that he’d had feelings for his best friend all along definitely fell in the weird enough category. But the rest of Izuku— the parts that had grown with Katsuki, that had been nourished by Katsuki, the parts that had fought for Katsuki and won — wouldn’t listen to that voice. Those parts knew that he was doing Katsuki a disservice by thinking something like that and he would never do that.

If there was one single thing that Izuku had believed in his entire life, it was Katsuki. He certainly wasn’t going to stop believing in him now, after Katsuki had given him so many more reasons to have faith and absolutely no reasons to lose it.

“I know that.” Izuku is pleased with how confident and steady his voice sounds as he replies. Even that little area in the back of his brain is quiet as he says this.

“If you know that,” Ochako says, but she’s still using her kinder tone, like she realizes that she almost pushed too hard earlier and is instead trying to make this more palatable for Izuku now. “Why are you so scared to admit that you have a crush on him?”

“Objectively he is very attractive.” Shoto adds in. “He’s strong, he’s a good hero, and you’ve never been bothered by his bad attitude. Honestly, it would be surprising if you didn’t have feelings for him with how much time you two spend together on top of it.”

It would be easier if things were that straightforward, that’s the first thing that Izuku thinks, But his relationship with Katsuki is fraught with memories that neither of them consider particularly pleasant. Their history is complicated and hard to understand— it even took them a while to understand it. Izuku couldn’t explain for a long time why he was so loyal to Katsuki even when Katsuki was at his worst, and Katsuki in return couldn’t explain why he had worked so hard to push Izuku out. They had gotten there in the end, both found the truths hidden somewhere in the depths of their hearts that they had come to terms with. And it was fine now— better than fine, they were inseparable now that they had overcome the hurdles that had kept them apart for so long. 

But the fact that they had found their truths and faced them didn’t make explaining their history easy to anyone who hadn’t been there to witness it. To truly understand the depth of the bond they shared, to explain it in a way that really did it justice, Izuku would have to go back all the way to their childhood, would have to explain every step of the evolution along the way. 

“It’s just—“ He takes in a breath but it feels shaky and unsteady in his chest. “It’s—“

“A lot,” Ochako agrees kindly, supplying Izuku with one of the million words that comes close to describing it but still misses the mark just a little bit. 

And that’s what all words do when it comes to anything related to Katsuki. There’s no summarizing him or his position in Izuku’s heart in words that can be said so easily. There is so much about Katsuki that can’t be summed up, so many nuances to his personality that words just fail to adequately describe.

It’s the way Katsuki will always smile with the right half of his mouth first, and if the right corner of his mouth isn’t tilted up, his smile isn’t real. It’s the way Katsuki has always ruffled his hair— doing so frequently and long enough that it somehow managed to turn into his hairstyle. It’s the way Katsuki gets quiet when he really has something to think about, reserved and hidden inside his mind. It’s the fact that the thoughts on his mind are more likely self deprecating than they are self congratulating, more likely analyzing something he had done to try and find ways to improve because he didn’t think he was good enough, not because he thought he was too good . Not anymore.

“Kacchan has been a part of my life for my entire life.” Izuku tries to explain, glancing between his friends in a desperate hope that they will understand the point he’s trying to make. “I— how I feel—“ he feels strange even saying those words, like he’d prefer shriveling up and hiding underneath the counter. “It’s always been the same. It’s always just been Kacchan.”

It’s not really useful at all, he knows, but he doesn’t know what else to say.

But then Ochako says something so simple back to him that suddenly makes everything he’d been denying click into place and come into crystal clear focus all at once. “Right. It’s always been Katsuki.”

It’s such a simple thing— something Izuku thinks he’s said himself dozens of times, though he’s never said it with quite the emphasis that Ochako just said it. But the point is true, he can’t deny that. The center of his world has always been Katsuki. And more importantly than that, it always will be Katsuki. Izuku can’t imagine his life not revolving around Katsuki, can’t imagine what it would be like to go days without seeing him, without starting and ending his days right next to Katsuki. Above absolutely anything else, his favorite place to be was simply wherever Katsuki was.

Even when things had been hard between them, even when fighting had been their only form of communication, Izuku’s life had centered around Katsuki. The first person he ever wrote about in one of his notebooks was Katsuki— before he even wrote about his mom and her quirk! He had gotten the idea one day while at the playground, watching Katsuki practice his newly developed quirk and in that moment he had realized that he wanted to know everything he could, and he wanted to remember every second of what was happening.

And from there, his life had continued much the same way. Even when he was gifted a quirk that wasn’t his, when he had been accepted to UA, when he had fought and somehow won a war, Katsuki had been there. For every big step in Izuku’s life— good or bad— Katsuki had been there. He had challenged Izuku to grow, to be stronger, to believe in himself. He had seen the hero qualities in Izuku from a young age— long before anyone else, Izuku included, saw any of them in him. Every important thing that happened to Izuku was either a direct result of Katsuki, or had Katsuki there to go through it with him. 

Simply put: it’s always been Katsuki.

“Are you—“ Izuku feels like he might break, like the world is shattering apart underneath his feet and he doesn’t know what he’ll find in the aftermath of this revelation. But he needs confirmation, he needs to put it out into the world. This isn’t the kind of thing that can be kept in his head— that’s too dangerous for his sanity. He would think himself into and out of a million different possibilities if he was left alone with his thoughts. This one time, his thoughts had to see the light of day, to breathe the delicious smelling air of Ochako’s apartment. This time, his thoughts had to be validated by someone else. “Are you telling me that I’ve been in love with Kacchan for my entire life?”

“Nobody mentioned love.” Shoto points out.

But Ochako jumps immediately in. “But if you’re inclined to describe it as love, then yes. That’s exactly what I’m telling you.”

It was true that nobody had mentioned love before Izuku had just blurted it out, but he finds that he can’t even feel embarrassed by it. His feelings for Katsuki had always been too strong for regular words, so it only felt right that he jumped to the strongest word he knew to describe it. Besides, the way Shoto and Ochako were looking at him suggested that they were one second away from using the word themselves, he’d just beaten them to it. And what was the point of having close friends if he couldn’t admit to them that he’d been in love with his childhood best friend, middle school enemy, high school rival— that he’d been in love with Katsuki for as long as he’d known how to feel anything at all.

“There’s a reason rumors always start about you and Katsuki.” Ochako says kindly, ignoring the oven as it finally beeps behind her. “It’s because anyone with eyes can see that you guys are crazy about each other. Well, anyone else with eyes, because you two sure don’t seem to be able to figure it out yourselves.”

She says it so easily, like everything Izuku has known isn’t falling apart around him. But at the same time, nothing about his known life is changing, it’s just taking on a different title, Because when he looks at his past through this new lens of being in love with Katsuki… nothing about his past looks different. All of his memories, all of the emotions that surround those memories, they’re all exactly the same as they were yesterday, and the day before, and every day since they happened. 

Izuku didn’t know what to do with this knowledge.

Luckily he was spared from having to come up with any coherent thought as Ochako finally pulled the food out of the oven, sparing him her knowing look and continued questions while she started dishing up food. Shoto seemed to be keeping an eye on him to ensure no mental breakdown followed the realization, but otherwise seemed content to just sit in silence. The only sounds that filled the apartment were the scraping of the utensils Ochako was using and whatever ambient noises of the city managed to filter through her partially open window. 

Izuku could feel his heart in his throat, his fingertips, the soles of his feet as he tried to figure out why processing this information wasn’t harder than it seemed to be, why it settled so nicely into his gut like it belonged there— like it had been there all along.

Finally Izuku groans, dropping himself back onto the countertop. He’s going to need some time to examine these thoughts alone later to really come to terms with them. For now, he’s just going to put them aside and try to enjoy his friend’s company. “You guys are sworn to secrecy. You know that, right? You can’t say anything!”

“It’s been like ten years,” Ochako says easily, waving the hand that’s holding the spatula at him. It reminds him of Katsuki immediately and he tries to slam the thought away before it gains any traction. “And we didn’t say anything in that time. We won’t say anything now.”

“Though we should probably tell Tenya that you finally figured it out.” Shoto says.

“Oh, yes!” Ochako replies enthusiastically. “He should be here any moment! We have to tell him, but we won’t tell anyone else.” She pauses, turning to slide a plate of food across the counter to Izuku and examining him in his half-melted position. “But what are you going to do? Are you going to tell Katsuki?”

“No!” Izuku nearly shoots off the countertop at just the suggestion of the idea. “I’m not going to do anything!” He answers before hastily adding more so that Ochako stops giving him that disappointed and frustrated look. “Not yet, at least. I need some time to— to come to terms with it, I guess.”

That seems to be acceptable to Ochako who places a hand warmly on the back of his, squeezing for a moment. She looks like she wants to say more but the knock on the door interrupts her. She shoots him a knowing smile as she moves around the counter.

“Coming!” She yells.

If Michael’s phone has been ringing off the hook since the episode aired about thirty-six hours ago, he can only imagine how busy Kotaro’s phone has been. Michael likes to tell himself that the reason Kotaro hasn’t come to his office to discuss the catastrophe they now found themselves in is because he’s been too busy fielding phone call after phone call to even get a second to step away. When Michael had gone home last night, he had passed by Kotaro’s office on the way out but hadn’t stayed to say anything when he’d found Kotaro on the phone, scribbling furiously on a sheet of paper that was in front of him. He’d stood in the doorway for nearly a minute before realizing that Kotaro was not about to look up anytime soon, and then he’d quietly made his exit. 

And truthfully, that was part of the reason. But he suspected that an equal— or perhaps even bigger— part of the reason was the fact that Kotaro didn’t want to talk to him. After the last episode it had become abundantly clear that there were feelings brewing between the two top heroes— feelings that Michael had identified on his first day as president of the agency and had watched simmer since then. It was painfully obvious every time Bakugo stalked back in his office to give some curt, half-hearted apology because Midoriya had scolded him for his behavior. It was clear every time Midoriya jumped in to say something, or denied something before Bakugo even had a chance to.

There was something about the push and pull they had with each other, the way they could step in for the other, the way they defended each other above all else. There was something about the way they always went together and definitely something about how they were the only ones who could get the other to do something. Whether that was getting Bakugo to agree to a meet-and-greet or convincing Midoriya to take a day off and rest, it didn’t matter how many times the rest of the world said it to them, it was a lost cause until the voice speaking the words was the one voice they trusted most. 

So yes, Michael had been harboring suspicions for a long time, And then when the cooking show had been suggested and Bakugo had flat-out refused to participate unless Midoriya participated with him, Michael had been absolutely certain. There was no denying the chemistry between them, the way they seemed to be irresistibly drawn to each other. And it was in that exact moment that Michael had decided to act.

The important thing here is the consideration that he hadn’t decided how to act yet, simply that he was going to do something. If pressed, he would say that he hadn’t ever intended to give them more than a gentle nudge, a chance to see things from an outside perspective. He had wanted a spotlight— literally— to illuminate their feelings so that they would finally see what everyone around them saw. He hadn’t intended for things to get so wildly out of hand.

And he should have.

As Kotaro had put it so many times already, the rumor that Bakugo and Midoriya were secretly in a relationship was always hovering just out of their earshot. In the few times that Kotaro had successfully managed to squash the rumor, he had never truly gotten rid of it, he’d simply diminished it. The moment the rumor existed the first time, it got its roots deep into the population and it never truly left. So it was foolish of him to bait that rumor, to think that he could outsmart it. It was foolish of him to play with fire, as Kotaro had said. He had intended to bring their feelings to light for them to see, but he had forgotten that it would be shedding light on their feelings for the whole country to see, as well. Maybe it’s because the general populous already saw and believed in their love for each other, Michael can’t say. All he knows is that he hadn’t expected to suddenly be faced with a runaway train, hadn’t thought that a rumor that they had dealt with so many times already could best him. 

He had been gravely wrong. And successfully put back in his place, though it was too late. 

And Michael suspected that his simmering ire for the situation and for Michael’s carelessness was the larger reason that Kotaro hadn’t even stepped foot in this part of the headquarters since the episode aired.

He had been warned and he had chosen to ignore the warnings and now they were officially in hot water. Even if Bakugo’s near proposal had solidified everything Michael had thought about them, even if Midoriya blushing every shade of red and then possibly a few brand-new shades of red validated the fact that he felt the same way— even if everything was going exactly how Michael had thought it would, it didn’t matter. He had thought that he’d taken the public into account and now he sees that he was so, so terribly wrong. 

The public, as it turns out, has a mind of its own. And, more importantly, they have matches and the overwhelming ability to start a fire. One so big, Michael doesn’t think it’ll be possible to put out without direct intervention from Bakugo, Midoriya, so more like both of them. And getting them involved, while possible, was not ideal. Not only would they be forced to come face to face with the rumors— if they had miraculously avoided them up until this point— but it would also force Michael to add his intentions. And while he’d genuinely had good intentions, he didn’t expect that either of them would feel particularly generous towards him. 

Kotaro had warned him that they were real people with real feelings and Michael realizes that more than ever as he watches the clip for probably the tenth time, trying to figure out how he’s supposed to get them out of this mess. 

He owes just about everyone involved in this an apology. 

The problem, though, and Michael identifies this, is that an apology simply can’t be enough at this point. After disregarding advice given to him by someone who specializes in a field he does not, after blatantly exposing the emotions of two people for the world to pick apart and judge— he barely even has the right to apologize. And even though he will, he knows that words can’t possibly make up for his transgressions. He just— he doesn’t know what would make up for them. 

As if reading his thoughts— or perhaps through sheer force of will— there’s a knock on the door. Michael tries to beckon the person in but the door is opening before the first syllables leave his tongue. 

“Ah.” He says, surprised, as he finds Kotaro hovering in the doorway, hand still braced on the knob as if he were about to turn and slam the door behind him. “Kotaro. Please, come in.”

Kotaro hesitates for a moment, eyes scanning Michael’s expression before his shoulders slump away from his ears, defeated, and he lets go of the handle, allowing the door to swing shut behind him as he steps inside. “Michael.”

It’s not as curt of a greeting as Michael would expect given the situation. He tries not to read too much into it, tries not to form any expectations for the conversation. It doesn’t go particularly well. 

“I assume you’re here to yell at me?” Michael gestures to the chair across the desk from him.

Last time Kotaro had been in his office, he’d refused to sit. Instead he’d clutched the back of the chair like it was providing him with all the courage he needed to try and stand up to Michael. It had been uncharacteristic of him, but Michael had been proud to see it. Being around Bakugo and Midoriya seemed to have given Kotaro a bit more confidence, and a bit more of a voice which is something Michael had always wanted him to find. And the fact that he felt so strongly about both heroes, strongly enough to go to the lengths of yelling at him over them, actually warmed Michael’s heart. He had known that somewhere inside, Bakugo had to have a kind side. Midoriya wouldn’t be so drawn to him if he didn’t. He still didn’t know why Bakugo had such a hard time showing it, but the fact that Kotaro was now able to see it too was comforting and endearing.

“I’m here to tell you that you were right.” Kotaro says before hastily snapping his head up and meeting Michael’s gaze head on. “Not that you were right to do what you did.” He clarifies immediately. “Just that I see it now.”

“You—“ Michael feels the world slow to a halt for a moment. “I’m sorry, what?”

Kotaro’s shoulders are stiff again, practically pressed to his ears as an angry flush covers his cheeks. His gaze is hard and determined as he stares at Michel from his spot just a few steps into the room. 

“I—“ He glanced away and the stubborn motion is jarringly similar to Bakugo when he doesn’t want to admit to something. “I think you were wrong to tempt fate the way you have, I think it was careless and callous of you to use their feelings against them like this, but I see what you see. What everyone seems to see. It’s hard not to know that it’s been pointed out to me.”

Out of everything Michael had been expecting, this wasn’t even on the list. He had honestly never seen or heard Kotaro raise his voice, but if there were ever an occasion that called for it, this would be it. And yet Kotaro isn’t raising his voice, isn’t fuming the way he had been the last time he was in here. If anything, he looks like he’s upset with himself because he’s seen something that he clearly never wanted to see.

“You’re right.” Michael manages to respond after a moment of stunned silence. Kotaro snaps a glare up in his direction, clearly mistaking Michael’s meaning and assuming he’s implying that Kotaro is right to see what he sees. He rushes on before Kotaro has a chance to really lean into the misunderstanding. “It was wrong of me to do what I did. I did not consider all the possibilities as well as I should have and I put all of us in an unfortunate position. Careless is a mild word for what I have been these last few weeks and I see that now. I should have listened to you and respected your advice. For that, I am very sorry.”

If the situation weren’t so serious, the look on Kataro’s face would probably make Michael laugh. His eyebrows have shot so far up that they’re barely even visible, practically melting into his hairline. He opens his mouth once or twice before snapping it shut, clearly at a loss for what to say. Michael waits patiently, knowing that Kotaro will find his words and that, more than anything else, he can’t rush Kotaro into accepting his apology, if he’s going to accept it at all.

“I didn’t know that you knew how to apologize.” Are the first words Kotaro finally manages to utter and then he looks shocked and mortified at the fact that those words actually came out of his mouth, his face almost instantly aflame. “I mean—“

Michael, though, is unable to hold back the laugh this time. He falls back against the back of his seat as he laughs, some of the tension draining out of his shoulders. “I suppose I deserve that.”

“That was very unprofessional of me.” Kotaro says after a moment, but now there’s a hint of a wry smile at the corner of his lips. “But yes, you deserved that.”

Michael shakes his head in a fond gesture. “Remind me to stop letting you hangout with Bakugo. He’s clearly a bad influence on you.”

That earns a startled bark of a laugh out of Kotaro and the last of the tension seems to drain out of the room. Kotaro finally crosses to sit in the seat opposite of Michael, though his posture is never completely casual. Sometimes Michael wonders if Kotaro will ever come fully out of his shell, or if he’ll always keep little bits of himself hidden away. He’s never been sure if it’s because Kotaro doesn’t trust others or because he doesn’t trust himself, but there’s always been a barrier that he has been very specific to maintain. And the fact that Michael sees even the most minuscule of cracks in it now is astounding. 

“I was wrong to judge him for all these years.” Kotaro admits quietly, looking down at his lap. “I always just believed the public’s perception of him and never gave him a chance. I assumed he was mean and coarse, completely unmanageable. But he’s actually—“ Kotaro pauses for a second, his gaze unfocused as he thinks. “He’s kind , actually. And he’s very caring. It’s obvious in the way he dotes on Midoriya, even if I had never noticed that until recently, but it’s also obvious in everything else he does.”

Michael listens, enraptured, as Kotaro continues.

“I think that I never noticed that he shows all of his kindness in small gestures. And I think he does that on purpose so that they go unnoticed. I’m not sure why he does it, but the more I look, the more I see it. He cleans the kitchen before we come every time so we don’t have to do anything. He preemptively moves the furniture that needs to be moved for the lighting crew. Last time, he had extra drinks in the fridge for everyone. He pretends that he’s just trying to avoid extra hassle for himself, but I think he genuinely cares.”

“Midoriya has always insisted that he was caring.” Michael points out after Kotaro takes in a deep breath and glances up, the tails of his thoughts still swirling in the air around them.

It was one of the things Midoriya was most known for, actually. Publicly and privately inside the agency. He never said anything bad about his fellow heroes and he never let the media talk bad about them, either, but he defended Bakugo in a way that was much more fiercely protective than the way he defended anyone else. Midoriya spent his work hours completing his hero duties and he seemed to spend all of his off hours trying to convince anyone that would listen that there was more to Bakugo than they saw. He brought it up in interviews, in fan signings, at any and every opportunity that was ever handed to him.

And Michael can admit now that he had been wrong about Bakugo, too. He had a short fuse and an explosive temper, but he always got his work done and he bit his tongue when things really mattered. And he always apologized, even if Midoriya was the one to convince him into it. He knew how to swallow his pride and how to take blame for his actions and he didn’t shy away from consequences when he felt they were being justly delivered. He was a lot more than just the callous exterior the public had seen for so many years but Michael, just like Kotaro, had never really bothered to get to know the person inside. 

It was despicable to admit, but Michael wouldn’t deny the truth, no matter how ugly it was when it was staring back at him. 

“I think some part of me believed that there was some side to him that only Midoriya got to see.” Kotaro responds. “And I think that’s definitely the case, but I also think there’s so much that we’ve all been overlooking for so long.”

“So you’re saying that doing something like this to change the public’s opinion of him was a good idea then?” Michael asks and he’s only a little bit teasing.

Kotaro sends him a withering expression. “I’m saying that I’ve been failing in my job all these years. If I had bothered to do my job properly, the public wouldn’t have had an opinion of him that needed changing.”

That surprises Michael more than he would have expected it to. To hear Kotaro take the blame for something that Michael didn’t feel was his fault was shocking, and somehow made Michael feel even smaller. 

It turned out that there was still a lot he needed to learn and improve on, and all of the actions he has made lately have been highlighting this fact. 

“Anyway,” Kotaro says, shaking his head as if trying to dismiss that train of thought before Michael even gets a chance to respond. “I appreciate the apology but I’m not the one who deserves it. You need to apologize to them. And we need to figure out what the hell we’re going to do about this, if anything.”

“…if anything?” Michael prompts. “I can’t see an outcome in which we continue to do nothing. That’s precisely what got us into this mess.”

“Trust me,” Kotaro says, and it’s not nearly as unkind as it could or even should be in this situation, “I’m aware. But this week is the sixth episode, and that was all they signed on for. If the show really does end after this episode, I think it might be better to leave the rumor alone. If we’re not constantly parading this in the public’s face anymore, the rumor is bound to die on its own. And since I don’t think there’s any damage control we can actually do, it’s easier that way.”

Ah, that reminds Michael all at once that he had been pointedly avoiding talking to any of them about the fact that this was supposed to be discriminating taste’s last episode. It wasn’t that he didn’t know or even that he didn’t have thoughts on it, but mostly that he hadn’t been brave enough to face anyone that he needed to face to address the issue. Not behavior becoming of an agency president and definitely not behavior he’s entitled to after all the trouble he caused, but none of that changes the fact that he’s had an email fully finished in his drafts for several days at this point that he hasn’t been able to convince himself to send. Not even when he looks at it multiple times a day.

“About that.” Michael says and Kotaro groans, dropping his face into his hands. His shoulders slump away from his ears and he looks defeated before Michael can even say anything else. “I’d be crazy to not want to keep this going.”

“You’d be crazy to even consider prolonging this! We’re so far behind the eight-ball as it is, that would just be throwing more dirt into our graves.” Kotaro massages his temples and doesn’t raise his gaze to meet Michael’s. “Please tell me you have any sense of self preservation and understand that prolonging this is a death sentence that none of us can undo.”

And Michael knows that he needs to listen to Kotaro, knows that he needs to step back and accept the opinion of someone who knows more, someone who has been giving him a correct opinion since the very beginning. He needs to learn a lesson from this whole disaster and trust Kotaro’s opinion. He needs to. 

“What about just one more?” He asks, and the way Kotaro seems to just collapse into his own lap is really all the answer that he could ever expect. 

@Valby 7min ago

Okay but realistically if Dynamight and Deku /are/ dating, they’re not going to tell us on the show. There’s a reason that’s not public knowledge 🧐🧐😞

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     ↳@smallmights1 3min ago

     @Valby there’s nothing there to be public knowledge!!! They’re not hiding anything!!😫😫😫

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@ SamIsNotLegend 5 min ago

What do I have to sacrifice to get someone to stare lovingly at me while cooking me delicious meals??? I swear if they’re not in love, love doesn’t exist😳🤡🥸

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@]]CookieQueen]] 5 min ago

Did I ever give a shit about cooking before this? No. Am I about to go out and buy a whole new set of pots and pans so I can cook EVERY SINGLE ONE of Dyanmight’s recipes? Yes. Absolutely. Obviously. 👻🍳🥘

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@Ashuhluhhh 2min ago

I made one of Dynamight’s recipes last night for dinner and just had the leftovers for lunch and it was still so???? Delicious??? The man can’t miss I s2g.(ﾟuﾟ人)) 🤌🤌🤌🤌💖

🗯1  ↻ 3 ♡3

Truthfully, the only reason Katsuki agreed to go out with the idiots was because he knew he couldn’t possibly get rid of them and if he said no to their request of meeting for dinner, they would break down his door and lay themselves all over his couch, dirty feet up on his coffee table as they messed up all his pillows. Saying no wouldn’t get him to not spend time with them, it would just somehow make the time more annoying. So when they asked him and made it clear that those were his options, he’d simply told them just give him a place and a time and he’d be there.

And he was there, five minutes early, and pleasantly surprised to see that Eijiro and Denki were already seated at the table, an array of waters spread out across the vacant seats. Katsuki gestures to them as he passes the hostess to make it clear where he’s going and she lets him go without problem. He stalks up to the table, pulling out a chair and dropping into it with no preamble.

“Idiots.” He mumbles in greeting, though he knows that his friends take no offense by it. By now it’s almost an affectionate nickname and if they hadn’t been upset by the name when he’d actually meant it, they certainly weren’t going to be bothered by it now.

“Kats!” Eijiro greets warmly, clapping him on the shoulders.

Denki shoots upright in his chair immediately, grinning. “The man of the hour!” He crows. “With how popular you are, we should be honored that you’d grace us with your presence.”

“You should’ve always been honored.” Katsuki fires back,  but he can feel the hint of a smile on his lips. “I’ve always been a gift and a blessing to you.”

“A humble one, too.” Eijiro remarks and then laughs when Katsuki’s elbow finds his ribs. 

They small talk for a few minutes— and by they, it’s just Eijiro and Denki catching up on things that have been happening lately while Katsuki listens and sips at his water. He had just seen Eijiro for the show, so he knew most of what he’d been up to. They’d had a few hours after the episode before Izuku came and Eijiro bailed, so there wasn’t anything he was saying that was new to Katsuki. Denki seemed to have gotten into the same level of shenanigans as always since Katsuki last saw him, detailing his escapades. He was just as animated as ever, nearly knocking down a glass of water with his wild hand gestures. Katsuki glared at him as he reached across the table to slide the water out of his striking zone.

Once Denki finished the story of his most recent mission, Katsuki finally spoke up. “Where are the others? Raccoon eyes and Tape Arms?”

Eijiro sighs next to him. “When are you going to call your friends by their real names?”

“Never.” Katsuki answers easily. “That includes you, Shitty Hair.”

“It really is so sweet that you have pet names for us.” Denki props his elbows on the table and then drops his chin into his hands. “But Hanta won’t be here for like another half hour. Apparently something happened at the end of his day so he’s got a whole bunch of paperwork to fill out.”

“Ashido is on her way.” Eijiro adds, glancing at Katsuki. “Which means that you have to make a decision.”

Katsuki can feel the scrunch of his eyebrows. “The fuck kind of decision do I have to make? She’s your other half, I’m not picking what she eats.”

“It’s not about what she’s eating.” Eijiro glances at Denki. “It’s about Izuku.”

Katsuki huffs out a heavy sigh and throws himself back in his chair. “Why the fuck is everything about Deku with you lately?”

“Kats—“

“There’s nothing to talk about!” Katsuki snatches his drink off the table and brings it to his mouth. “How many fucking times do I have to say that? Things are the same as they always are with the damn nerd. I don’t understand why that’s hard for you to comprehend.”

Eijiro and Denki stare at each other across from the table and Katsuki tries to read their thought process in their faces.

“You do it.” Eijiro mumbles.

“He’ll murder me if I say it.” Denki says back. “He at least likes you. He only tolerates me.”

“I’ve already tried talking to him about it.” Eijiro reminds Denki. “ Before the episode. So you can see how well that went.”

“If he won’t listen to you, why would he listen to me?” Denki counters.

“Okay, chucklekfucks.” Katsuki sits up again and places a hand firmly on the table. “Someone just spit it the fuck out, would you? Because I’m starting to gather that my options are talking to you idiots about whatever this is now, or talking to you idiots plus raccoon eyes about this, and I’m damn sure not picking the second option.”

Katsuki tries to keep his voice lower, aware that he’s in a public location. It’s not so much that he’s worried about people overhearing him cussing at his friends or calling them by their nicknames— he has a reputation for a reason after all. It’s more the fact that they apparently want to talk about Izuku and that’s never been a good thing— the last thing he needs is people in this restaurant eavesdropping on this conversation when half the world already is whispering about him and Izuku. Knowing that his closest friends have similar sentiments would only set the entire internet on fire. 

Because historically his friends only bring Izuku up like this if they want to try to talk to Katsuki about feelings — something that has been strictly forbidden so many times that Katsuki has run out of ways to say it. And yet, they continue to cross this line over and over and fucking over again.

Denki removes one of his hands from under his chin and gestures to Katsuki with it and Eijiro sighs in defeat, turning back to look at Katsuki.

“Okay, so, remember that conversation we had where I told you to pay attention to how you feel around Izuku?” Eijiro asks and Katsuki grimaces, which is all the acknowledgement that Eijiro seems to need. “And remember how you promised that you would do that?”

“Promised is a strong word.” Katsuki answers gruffly, glancing at Denki to find that he’s taking this conversation surprisingly seriously. It only sets Katsuki’s nerves further on edge.

“Well, whatever word you want to use for it.” Eijiro says fairly. “The point stands that you were supposed to be paying attention to how you interact with Izuku.”

“Okay…” Katsuki glances between the two. “The fucking point?”

Eijiro takes a breath like he’s trying to decide something and then just dives on in. It’s normally something that Katsuki would appreciate, cutting around the bullshit and just saying whatever it is he wants to say, But Katsuki distinctly does not appreciate the words that come out of Eijiro’s mouth next. “Kats, you basically proposed to him.”

It takes a long second for the words to make it into Katsuki’s brain. He hears them— oh, he fucking hears them—  but he can’t comprehend them for a long time. And then, when he finally does, he’s slamming his fist down on the table, the water in the glasses sloshing dangerously. “ What? ”

“I told you.” Denki says immediately. “Can you imagine how he would’ve reacted if I had said it? The table would be burnt to a crisp already.”

“Nobody fucking asked you.” Katsuki jabs a finger across the table towards Denki, turning his glare back onto Eijiro immediately. “You. Fucking repeat that.”

Eijiro, to his defense, just stares at Katsuki calmly, his hands well within his own space. He had learned once in their first year to not try to physically reach out to or touch Katsuki when he was pissed off unless he wanted a strong recoil. Most of the time, Katsuki was indifferent to touch, but there were a few instances where he felt like a bomb with the fuse already burning away and even the gentlest touch would push him over the edge. Eijiro— kind and patient Eijiro who wanted nothing but the best for the people he cared about— was the kind of person to learn something after only one lesson. So the first time Katsuki had lashed out at his touch, shoved him away and yelled some profanity in his face, he had tucked that information away in the back of his mind and hadn’t ever crossed that line again. 

Of course there were a few times when Katsuki felt like a bomb that was ticking down to the inevitable explosion and he would appreciate the touch of gentle hands that were trying to defuse him. But it was such an intricate art, finding exactly the right wire to cut, the channel to close, the password that would unlock whatever self-defense mechanisms were inherent inside of him. There were a few times where he craved someone reaching out to him in his worst moments, a hand extended to draw him out of the darkness. But there was only one person who he trusted enough to navigate those situations— only one person he trusted to know the difference between them and then to provide that extended hand unfailingly and without judgment.

And yeah, figuring out how to differentiate his types of anger had been something that was a lot of trial and error in the beginning, and yeah , Izuku had gotten more than his fair share of explosions straight to the face— both physically and emotionally— but he had stood strong through them every time and now he could take only a two-second glance at Katsuki and immediately know what it was he needed, even if Katsuki couldn’t put his needs into words on his own.

“Kats.” Eijiro meets his gaze head on and stupid fucking Denki leans a little bit closer over the table, his face still somber but somehow his body was practically buzzing with energy. “You told him to take your last name. You literally said he would just have to be Bakugo Izuku. Those were your words .”

It rings a bell in his mind— but just a bell of recognition, not an alarm bell. He remembers saying that, but he wracks his brain for why that had come up. It takes a second for him to sort through the dregs of his memories, but then it’s there. He remembers how it came up, remembers Izuku telling a story in that excited way of his, talking with his hands and holding up his phone for the camera to see. It used to be annoying how animated he got when he was happy about something, but now it was endearing. Mostly, Katsuki was used to it, and could admit that it could be infectious at times. Though admitting that to himself and admitting that to Izuku were two entirely different things.

“We were talking about our hero agency.” He says after a moment, the memory floating to the surface of his mind. That explains it.

Except, apparently, to Eijiro and Denki, it doesn’t. 

“Okay?” Eijiro says, glancing sidelong at Denki.

At Denki who had, apparently, gotten over whatever fear of being murdered he’d been clinging to in the middle. “Man, I don’t care what you were talking about. There’s no other way to take something like that.”

“It was—“ Katsuki glares between the two of them, dropping his voice down from the yell it desperately longs to be. He takes in a deep breath and holds it, trying to bring his temper down from a boil to a simmer. “It was something we used to talk about as kids, dipshits. Okay? We used to say that we would just combine last names or take each other’s so that way the agency name was easier to remember. It was just— it was just a reference to when we were kids.”

And it was , he reminds himself firmly, despite the sudden nagging feeling that starts in the back of his mind and travels down the length of his spine. They had decided when they were kids that they would use Bakugo as the collective last name for the hero agency because they couldn’t come up with any good combination of their last names and Midoriya didn’t strike fear into villain hearts the way Katsuki wanted it to. And childhood Izuku was no different than adult Izuku in his willingness to bend over backwards for anyone— but Katsuki especially, bending to his will like the branches of a willow in the breeze. Katsuki had suggested it one time and Izuku had immediately agreed and for the rest of their childhood, it had simply been the Bakugo Hero Agency.

But now that Katsuki finds himself having to explain that to dumb and dumber, he realizes that perhaps without the context it does sound… like something different. Which would explain why Izuku had described it as the Midoriya and Bakugo Hero Agency even though that name had been thrown out the window the very first time it had been mentioned.

Still. Still . Izuku would know. He would understand and he would laugh if he heard that everyone was taking this long-standing joke from their childhood as a proposal. 

“Someone should tell Izuku that.” Denki says as if he’s reading Katsuki’s train of thoughts. “Because he turned so red.”`

“That doesn’t mean—“ Katsuki growls, but the end of the statement doesn’t come to him.

Doesn’t mean what? Doesn’t mean that Izuku took the statement as the proposal that everyone seemed to think it was? Of course he fucking didn’t, Katsuki didn’t even need to say that. In fact, he felt insurmountably silly even trying to defend this in the first place. It was an inside joke between him and Izuku and that’s how inside jokes worked— only the people inside understood it. But Izuku was on the inside of the joke, so Katsuki was wholly certain that he understood it. 

And he was equally certain that he’d meant it only as a reference to that joke, too.

And, really, so what if the world took it as a proposal? The world was constantly ready to jump down his throat and to latch onto every single interaction they ever had, examining it under microscopes for any hint that there was something hidden inside. If it wasn’t this, it would be something else, some other comment one of them makes offhand without even thinking about it. It was always just a matter of time until the next rumor about them arose and began to circulate so what the fuck did he really care? This was going to be his reality one way or another. 

Besides, an inside joke between childhood friends was harmless in the grand scheme of things. The internet finding out that they used to plan their own hero agency was barely a blip on the radar of Katsuki’s life. There were so many other things they could find out that would cause a much bigger headache in his life than this.

If the internet found out that he and Izuku shared a bed almost every night, if they found out that Izuku kept a drawer of clothes in Katsuki’s flat to avoid having to go home. If the internet saw the way Izuku only lost his mind when Katsuki was threatened, or the way Izuku could make him laugh or smile in private.

All the things that he did with Izuku that the internet didn’t see— now those things would cause much more of a nightmare than this.

Because those things—

“Kats, you know you’re my best friend and I love you.” Eijiro interrupts the train of thought that Katsuki was just about to board, the tendrils of the realization he was having slipping through his fingers like smoke in the aftermath of one of his explosions. 

“Hey!” Denki interjects indignantly, but his outcry is ignored. 

“But you are seriously the most dense person I have ever met in my entire life.” Eijiro finishes. 

Katsuki bristles at the comment, darkening his glare. “The hell?”

“I don’t know how you have managed to go all these years without ever seeing what everyone else sees,” Eijiro almost sounds exasperated. “But we’re all at our limit of watching you be hit in the face with this knowledge over and over again and somehow still managing to ignore it.”

“What the—“

“You’re in love with Izuku!” Denki cries suddenly, throwing his hands in the air. “And he’s in love with you, too. There, now everyone knows.”

Eijiro sighs next to Katsuki, shaking his head. “I thought you were too afraid to get involved?”

“You were going to take too long to tell him.” Denki shrugs. “And try to be vague about it. Someone just needed to say it. Besides, look, he didn’t kill me!”

Katsuki can feel Eijiro shift next to him, turning to examine his profile. “I think his brain just shut down. He’s still going to kill you, it’s just delayed.”

Katsuki knows a lot of things in his life. He knows that Izuku is the number one hero— he knows that Izuku deserves to be the number one hero and he’s happy to be in his shadow at number two. He knows that his parents love him, that Auntie Inko loves him. He knows that he has a place to come home to at the end of a long day. And he damn sure knows for a fucking fact that Dunce Face didn’t just say that he was in love with Izuku. 

Because there’s a lot of stupid things that his idiot friends have said to him before and then there’s this. And this is so far out of the realm of stupid that he almost can’t even begin to comprehend it. 

Being in love with someone was something Katsuki didn’t see in his life. It had just never really happened for him. He didn’t have the time of day to give to someone else. Not in a malicious way, just in a way that came from his dedication to his dreams, his career, and the few people who had somehow managed to crack his hard exterior. He didn’t have time to invest in someone else and he damn sure didn’t have the emotional capacity for that. He was getting better at experiencing and expressing his emotions, sure, but he was far from being good at it. And being romantically involved with someone not only required him to recognize his own emotions, but to put them into words. 

What he needed, if he were ever to get into a romantic relationship, would be to find someone who understood him the way Izuku did. Who could read his thoughts and feelings without him putting them into words, who saw what was written between the lines and the words that punctuated his silences. He would need someone like Izuku who managed to fill in all of his cracks and mend all of his breaks and make it so that he was being understood, even when he wasn’t doing a good job of explaining himself.

He would need someone to call his ass out and put him back in his place, to eat all of his food without any remorse. He needed someone who steals the covers in the middle of the night, who laughed at his dark jokes instead of blanching at them. He needed someone who had too much goddamn energy, too much sunshine shining out of their ass, to make up for his own sour attitude on most days. He needed someone who was more than happy to put their life on the line for him but couldn’t be fucked to separate their darks and whites when doing laundry like that goddamn nerd. Because Izuku had managed to fill all of his gaps a long time ago, leaving a tall order for someone to live up to and an exact outline of exactly what they’d have to do. 

It takes about three seconds after he has this thought for it to really sink into his head.

And when it does, he feels his blood run cold in his veins.

Because no matter how much he wants to deny it, he can’t. Quietly, in his own head, to nobody but himself, he had just said that what he would need in a romantic partner was Izuku. He had just described Izuku as his other half without even realizing it. 

No.

No.

Absolutely not.

The fucking idiots couldn’t be right for the sheer fact that Katsuki wouldn’t let them be. If there was even an ounce of truth to their stupid idea— and there wasn’t!— he would crush those feelings with sheer force of will before he would give in to them.

Besides, there was more to being a romantic partner than just understanding each other. There was the physical intimacy, too. And Katsuki had only thought about kissing Izuku once — and it was only because he had remembered that Izuku had been his first kiss as a child and he had wondered if it would be different now than it was then! Because Izuku had changed in so many ways, but he also hadn’t changed in so many others. His hair was still unruly, he had the same constellations of freckles on his cheeks, and his selfless and devoted attitude was the core of who he was. Sure he was taller, and stronger, and a lot less of a crybaby now, but the heart of who he was remained the same. And so Katsuki had just wondered, an idle curiosity that he definitely did not dwell on, if things would feel different if he kissed this Izuku. Or if Izuku was truly so much the same person that the experience would be nothing more than deja vu.

And while Katsuki would like to boast about the fact that he’s only ever thought about it once, he has to bite his tongue. Because he may not have spent his time fantasizing about pushing Izuku up against a wall, but he also hadn’t ever spent his time fantasizing about pushing anyone else up against a wall either. In fact, the number of times in Katsuki’s life he had ever considered kissing someone was exactly once, and it was that time with Izuku. So it may not be a lot, but in context it was pretty damning.

“Kats? Kats?” Vaguely he hears Eijiro’s voice and feels a hand land on his shoulder, but he tunes it out, barely noticing as Eijiro finishes with “Dude, I seriously think you broke him.”

Whatever the two idiots have to say are inconsequential at the moment because the train of thought that he had missed earlier seems to have returned to the station and was waiting for him to board.

What did it actually feel like to be in love with someone? He may not know first hand, but he’s seen enough stupid romcoms to tell him. 

It’s those— those stupid ass butterflies in his stomach, that giddy happiness that couldn’t be brought on by someone else. It was a feeling of home, of complete acceptance. It was putting someone else above everything, wanting nothing more than to be with them.

It was planning their schedules so they had two days off in a row together. It was keeping their favorite drink stocked in his fridge so he got to see that happy smile spread across their lips every time they opened the fridge to see it waiting there. It was learning to cook a meal they had only mentioned wanting to try once. It was birthdays spent together, christmases. It was knowing each other’s families, returning calls to their parents in their stead. It was sitting in hospital rooms because certain shitty fucking nerds can’t ever take good enough care of themselves. It was dragging each other off the battlefield, patching up wounds behind closed doors. It was kicks under the table when he was about to say something unsavory at a press conference, and the bitten of smile that says they would’ve thought it was funny, even though it was inappropriate. It was persistence, even when things were at their worst, never giving up and fighting to stay side by side because even the worst of days was worth it. 

Being in love, it turns out, was a bunch of small things that added up together.

It wasn’t some big grand gesture, it didn’t declare itself as it arrived. It was the mundane stuff, the day to day activities. It was in the shadows, in the crevices, in every aspect of his life. He was surrounded by it— had been surrounded by it for his whole goddamn life, apparently. And it had been so gradual, so natural, that he hadn’t even noticed it was happening. 

“Neither one of you are to ever say a word of this shit again.” Katsuki snaps back to the present, pointing a threatening finger at his friends. “Do you fucking understand me? I hear one word of this and it’s an explosion down your throat before you get a chance to finish talking.”

“Does that mean you admit to being in love with him?” Denki asks, flinching back immediately as Katsuki slams his palms on the table. 

Whatever remark he had waiting on the tip of his tongue dies as someone slings their arm around his shoulders, leaning into him and crooning, “it’s the man of the hour! Congratulations on your engagement!”

“Pinky,” Katsuki says lethally, shifting to throw her weight off of him. She falls easily against Eijiro, entirely unfazed. “I’m going to need you to shut the fuck up.”

Her eyebrows rise as she turns to look at Eijiro, who simply offers a shake of the head and mumbles, “He’s not taking his realization well.”

“Oh.” Ashido says as she settles into a proper seat at the table. And then. “ Oh ! He finally realized?”

“Pinky—“

Her hands go up immediately. “I’m not saying anything!”

But the grin she shoots at Eijiro and Denki is telling enough. 

It seemed that every time Michael got all four of them— himself, Kotaro, Midoriya and Bakugo— in one room, the tension seemed to triple. He wasn’t sure how that always managed to be the case, but the second the door closed behind them, Midoriya taking care to shut it gently so it didn’t slam, the air in the room suddenly felt suffocating. Midoriya and Bakugo stood next to each other the way they always did, but there seemed to be the slightest shift in their dynamic and behavior. Both of them were staring at opposite walls, away from one another. Normally they would always be angled just a little bit towards each other, catching each other’s eyes and holding one of those silent conversations that they were known for. 

Michael tried very hard to convince himself that nothing had changed, but there was a sinking feeling in his gut that he had pushed too far, been too confident in his decisions and now the permanent damage that Kotaro had warned him about was coming back to bite them all in the asses. He would happily take the blame for it all, take all the backlash and ire, but he knows that he can’t bear it alone. Not that he’s incapable of it, but that the public would never put it solely on his shoulders. No matter what happens, there will be some outcry, some anger that lands on both Midoriya and Bakugo, and they all seem to know that it’s waiting just outside the safety of the headquarters. 

But the only thing they can do at this moment is push forward, so Michael tries to smile and begin the meeting. “Thank you all for coming on such short notice. I did not mean to leave this meeting until the last second,  but I’m afraid that time seems to be moving at a faster rate than I thought.”

At the very least, the comment earns a small smile from Midoriya who finally shifts his gaze properly to Michael.

Whatever tension there is sizzling between him and Bakugo doesn’t seem to be bad— it just feels charged . But neither one of them is pulling away from the other. There almost seems to be a feeling of— Michael stops himself before he can dwell on it considering dwelling on it is exactly what has led them to this problem.

“As it is,” Michael continues, trying to meet everyone’s eyes directly and keep the meeting as professional and on-track as possible. “This week’s episode is the sixth episode of discriminating taste .”

“Thank fuck.” Bakugo breathes, the edges of his smile sharper than his knives. It was his expected response, given that he hadn’t wanted to participate in the show at all to begin with, but it still makes Michael frown. 

“ But ,” Michael presses on, watching as the smile slips right off of Bakugo’s lips. “The deal was—“

“Six episodes.” Bakugo cuts in. “The deal was six fucking episodes.”

“Yes,” Michael agrees. “Six episodes where you cook and Midoriya eats.”

Realization dawns on Bakugo’s face as quickly as the smile had fallen off it. And then he’s spinning to face Midoriya, grabbing the collar of his shirt and dragging him two inches closer. It’s not nearly as malicious as he’d like it to be, but it does get the desired effect of Midoriya’s expression turning apologetic as he raises his hands in surrender.

“I’m sorry!” Midoriya says before Bakugo can even get any words out. “I would’ve been there if I could’ve! You know that, Kacchan.”

Bakugo stares at him for a long moment before finally letting go of his shirt roughly and turning his gaze away with a scoff. “So that’s how you’re going to milk another episode out of me, huh? Because Deku hasn’t fulfilled his six episodes?”

“Precisely.” Michael tries not to indicate anything more with his expression. “Of course, I would love if you’d be willing to continue on after the next two episodes—“

There’s two sides of Michael that exist in this moment. There’s the side that has looked at Bakugo’s poll numbers, that has watched his popularity skyrocket. That side of him has seen people request that he make a cookbook, that he do this forever. There’s the side of Michael that is head of the hero agency and wants the best for his company. But there’s also the side of Michael that got chastised by Kotaro, that recognizes that he has pushed too far as it is and is crazy to push even further. There’s the side of Michael that isn’t a business person but instead just a human who recognizes that human hearts are on the line here. The problem is that the second side of Michael has shown up too late.

The other problem is that as much as Kotaro would like them to ignore the general public, he’s not in a position to do so. And the general public is begging for more. 

“Like hell.”

“But I understand that’s something we should talk about in another week and isn’t a decision you need to make now.” Michael finishes as if he hadn’t heard Bakugo say anything.

“I’m perfectly capable of making it right now.” Bakugo growls. “Fuck no.”

“Kacchan!” Midoriya cries, turning imploring eyes on him. For a moment, whatever tension had been dwelling between them breaks and their back to their usual selves. Midoriya leans closer to Bakugo, trying to impart some message with only his gaze. “You should not talk to him like that. And you should really think about it.”

Red eyes turn back to Midoriya, eyebrows drawn down in a glare that doesn’t seem to land, not even a little bit. Midoriya’s expression is as stern as he’s capable of on a day to day basis, which isn’t particularly stern but it is uncommon enough that it gets the point across anyways. 

“Why?” Bakugo challenges. “It’s already done what it was supposed to for my popularity, hasn’t it?” Bakugo glances away for a moment to look at Kotaro who nods in confirmation of what he’s said. “I get stopped on the street all the fucking time now.”

“That’s why!” Midoriya emphasizes with a finger pointed at Bakugo. “Not for your ratings but just because the public loves it! You’ve given so many people delicious new recipes and even helped people make friends! You’ve really brought a lot of people together with this and that’s so great!”

Michael only allows himself a second to revel in what Midoriya has said, reminding himself that he got here by causing some decent damage. Even if there were a lot of good outcomes.

“Gross.” Bakugo replies, sticking his tongue out in mock disgust. 

Midoriya whacks him on the arm. “You enjoy this cooking show. I know you do.”

“Absolutely the fuck not.” Bakugo barks back easily. “What is there to enjoy about hordes of people invading my house once a week?”

Midoriya rolls his eyes as he turns away from Bakugo, his next words clearly directed at Michael and Kotaro. Bakugo scowls at being effectively cut out of the conversation. “You know, just the other day we were on our way in and this woman stopped him to tell him that she had made one of his meals and her husband had loved it so much that he’d already requested that she make it again. And then Kacchan smiled the rest of the walk to the agency!”

“Did not!” Bakugo bellows at once.

“He did!” Midoriya is grinning now, “You should’ve seen it! He thought he was being so cool and tough by trying to keep his face covered with his uniform but he was absolutely smiling.”

There’s a red flush to Bakugo’s cheeks as he yells some threat that nobody believes and suddenly Midoriya is laughing his warm laugh. And two things strike Michael in that moment: whatever tension had been there when they had first come in was completely gone, and Kotaro had been right about Midoriya having a completely different laugh when he was being sincere.

The realizations send Michael falling back into his seat as he watches the scene unfold before him. He isn’t sure what they’re saying but suddenly Kotaro is involved, too, quipping back and forth with both Midoriya and Bakugo, smiles on all of their faces. There’s suddenly an ease in the room as Midoriya laughs again, leaning a little to his side almost as if seeking out Bakugo for support. 

His laugh is so happy , so unlike the one that he uses in interviews. Michael had always known that the laugh he used in interviews was a little forced— interviewers were, most of the time, not as funny as they believed themselves to be and Midoriya was polite to the very core of every bone in his body— but he’d never thought it could be that different. Michael hears Kotaro’s words echoing in the back of his mind, realizes for perhaps the first time what it truly means to consider these two heroes in front of him as real people— individuals with their own thoughts and feelings.

It wasn’t that Michael hadn’t known that before— that had been part of the problem. No matter how much they liked to believe otherwise, both Midoriya and Bakugo wore their hearts on their sleeves when it came to each other. Michael had known that from the first time he’d ever seen them interact and it’d only gotten worse over the years— worse, as in more obvious, not in a bad way, because their dynamic is intoxicating to watch and be around. By every account, it does not seem like it should have worked. And yet it does work, better than Michael has ever seen anything else work before. 

And he’d had good intentions when he had decided to let the rumors go, to have Kotaro ignore them for the time being. He had hoped that it would spur at least one of them to realize what had been written so plainly on their faces for so many years, Because they already were great together, so Michael could only assume that they’d be even better together . And he wanted that for them, he really did. He wanted them to find the happiness in each other that he knew was there, that everyone knew was there.

But, he realizes now as he watches the scene unfold before him, he was so used to parading them around and putting them on display for the public that he had forgotten just what it was like to have them be their own people. He was so used to them saying yes to his requests, to doing whatever he suggested was best and getting his imagined outcome on the first try that he had put this into a box that it didn’t belong in. Because this wasn’t superficial— and this wasn’t for show. He had taken perhaps the single most personal thing he possibly could have and dangled it in front of the public against their wills and without their knowledge. 

Bakugo finally laughs too, rolling his eyes fondly and it draws Michael back to the moment. Kotaro has moved several steps closer to both of them and has his phone out, showing them something on it. And it’s so striking to Michael— seeing Kotaro be friends with both of them. It was a clear example that Kotaro had done exactly what Michael had failed to do— he’d gotten to know them as real people and then formed relationships from there. 

Michael clears his throat as he sits back up properly in his chair, drawing the attention of everyone in the room. The joking dies down immediately but the smiles remain as they all turn back to him with their full focus. 

“Are we in agreement, then?” He asks, glancing between everyone as if there hadn’t just been an extended lull in the conversation. “We’ll do one more episode next week and then talk about extending the show further if we decide?”

There’s suddenly something in his gut— something that really resembles guilt— that knows that extending the show further might not be the best idea. Something that sounds like Kotaro’s voice in the back of his mind. But he can’t very well go back on his own statements now, not yet. And not until he has figured out how to properly apologize and make up for his mistakes. Until then, he had to make things seem as normal as possible. 

“Absolutely!” Midoriya chimes happily.

At the same time Bakugo give a gruff, “Sure to the one more week, Still a fuck no to extending the show.”

And while it draws another roll of the eyes from Midoriya, it makes Michael smile just the tiniest bit. Kotaro too, it seems, as he glances fondly over at the two men next to him.

Michael dismisses everyone after that, needing some time to himself to think. If he got them into this mess using the show, maybe he could find a way to use the show to get them out of it, too. 

@violinbatcabbage 3 hours ago

This week is supposed to be our last week of discriminating taste, isn’t it? 😰🙀😿

🗯0  ↻ 0 ♡1

@Metricsystem 3 hours ago

Literally what is the point of living if I don’t get my weekly bkdk content😫🧡🌈💚

🗯1  ↻ 37 ♡112

     ↳@smallmight1 5 min ago

     @Metricsystem there are so many more reasons to live!!! It’s not like you won’t still have access to them!! 💯🌟✨

     🗯0  ↻ 1 ♡7

@Freckled_Dynamight 2 hours ago 

What if— hear me out on this, HEAR ME OUT— what if the final episode of discriminating taste just ended with them confessing that they’ve been together for years?🫢🫢🙊❤️🔥

🗯1  ↻ 14 ♡39

     ↳@smallmight1 4 min ago

     @Freckled_Dynamight they’d have to have been together for years for that to happen and they haven’t been!! Just friends!!😩😖🫂

     🗯0  ↻ 0 ♡2

@MysticSunrise 2 hours ago

You expect me to go back to using google to find recipes now that I’m used to Dynamight and the way he teaches? ☹️💻🧾

🗯0  ↻ 21 ♡25

@Slycc_nobi 1 hour ago

Truly nothing hurts more than the fact that I have to give up the best part of my weeks. Why can’t discriminating taste go on forever???(-̩̩̩-̩̩̩-̩̩̩-̩̩̩-̩̩̩___-̩̩̩-̩̩̩-̩̩̩-̩̩̩-̩̩̩)

🗯1  ↻ 67 ♡121

     ↳@strawberrysnake 58 min ago

     @Slycc_nobi  they are pro heroes, they have jobs to do (˘･_･˘)💚🧡

     🗯1  ↻ 0 ♡0

         ↳@Slycc_nobi 47 min ago 

         @strawberrysnake rude of them to have jobs other than supplying me with the biggest form of serotonin 😤😠🌟🌟

         🗯0  ↻ 4 ♡9

@Valkyrie_Riot 45 min ago

Are we taking bets on Dynamight’s final recipe? It’s somehow related to Deku, I just know it. His favorite meal, maybe?🤭🤤🫶

🗯1  ↻ 3 ♡6

     ↳@smallmight1 3 min ago

     @Valkyrie_Riot   Deku’s favorite meal is Katsudon and he started with that!!🍚🥢

     🗯1  ↻ 0 ♡4

         ↳@Valkyrie_Riot 2 min ago

         @smallmight1 omg I didn’t even REALIZE— I have to go back and watch every episodew(°ｏ°)w🏃💨

         🗯1  ↻ 0 ♡2

             ↳@smallmight1 2 min ago

             @Valkyrie_Riot   hahah it’s okay!! It’s a little known fact I think that he loves Katsudon😅🤤

             🗯1  ↻ 0 ♡5

                 ↳@Valkyrie_Riot 1 min ago

                 @smallmight1 little known fact and yet Dynamight acts on it right off the bat? INCH RESTING🤨😏😏👅

                 🗯1  ↻ 0 ♡10

                     ↳@smallmight1 1 min ago

                     @Valkyrie_Riot   I— 

                     🗯0  ↻ 0 ♡1

@frustrationc 30 min ago

Petition for Dynamight to write and release a cookbook📖🖋️💥

🗯1  ↻ 189 ♡271

     ↳@smallmight1 1 min ago

     @frustrationc yes!! I’ve been saying he should do that for years!! He would write a great cookbook!!🍱🍽️📙📗

     🗯0  ↻ 4 ♡45

@jenanigans1207 27 min ago 

We’re all still suspicious of @/smallmight1 right? Like he ONLY pops up on tweets to say that bkdk aren’t together. I NEVER see him post anything else?? (≖_≖ )

🗯1  ↻ 1 ♡91

     ↳@boiledsaturn 25 min ago

     @jenanigans1207 RIGHT?\(⊙ω⊙)/ And he talks about Dynamight like he knows him personally ಠಿ_ಠ

     🗯1  ↻ 3 ♡19

         ↳@rockycellospider 23 min ago

         @jenanigans1207 @boiledsaturn He talks about both of them like he knows them personally 🕵️♀️💚🧡

         🗯1  ↻ 1 ♡12

             ↳@boiledsaturn 19 min ago 

             @jenanigans1207 @rockycellospider An inside source???ಠ-ಠ🥸😱

             🗯1  ↻ 0 ♡4

                 ↳@rockycellospider 15 min ago 

                 @jenanigans1207 @boiledsaturn I also find the timing that he started appearing weird…⌚(ಸUಸ)

                 🗯0  ↻ 1 ♡2

Discriminating Taste

Cooking with Dynamight

Episode 6: Thai Basil Chicken

Follow along with today’s recipes here and here!

The chat is alive at least ten minutes before the stream even starts— people trying to predict what the last meal is going to be, people lamenting the fact that the show has been over, discussions about everyone’s favorite moments to date. It’s somewhere between a giddy and somber feeling, some sort of bittersweet, when the screen fades from black and shows everyone’s favorite familiar sight of a smiling Deku seated at the counter as Dynamight stands just to the right of him, looking like he’d rather be anywhere else.

Tonight, Dynamight is staring down at a series of bags in front of him— many more bags than he usually has. The bags are all tied shut, the contents hidden, and Dynamight appears to be just as puzzled as everyone else.

“Good evening and happy Friday!” Deku says as the camera pans over to center him better. “As always, we are super excited to be here to help kick off your weekend! Thank you for joining us!”

Everyone starts greeting Deku in response in the chat, even though Kotaro and the tablet are nowhere to be seen on screen, meaning he won’t have access to everyone’s kind words. 

“We have a fun few things to share with you guys tonight. Right, Kacchan?” Deku turns his warm smile over to Dynamight who finally looks away from the bags and meets Deku’s eyes. 

For one long moment when their gazes meet, Dynamight seems to completely freeze into his spot, as if there’s something that has stunned him entirely. He shakes it off quickly, though, turning his gaze back to the bags.

“Are you going to tell me what the hell this is?” He says in response.

Deku tries— and fails, miserably— to play innocent, raising his shoulders in a shrug as he looks at the bags, too. “I’m not the one who does the shopping, Kacchan. I don’t know what Kotaro got you.”

“Bullshit.” Dynamight barks back immediately. “This has your name written all over it.”

Deku clearly tries to bite down on the edges of a pleased grin, desperately attempting to school his expression into something more neutral. “You never let me do the grocery shopping so there’s no way I could be responsible for this!”

“First of all,” Dynamight points at Deku, “That’s because you’re the world's shittiest shopper. I can’t trust you to get anything. And second of all, I’m well aware you didn’t go buy all of this but I’m damn certain you added things to the list for Kotaro to get.”

The first half of his statement gets a dramatic eye roll from Deku and the second half earns him another unconvincing shrug and a “Why don’t you open the bags and see?”

Dynamight stares at him for a long, long moment, accusation clear in his eyes, but Deku doesn’t budge even a little bit. He sits perfectly tall and content in his seat, grinning across the kitchen at Dynamight until Dynamight finally gives in and reaches for the first bag. As he starts pulling stuff out and spreading it on the counter before him, he doesn’t seem particularly surprised or concerned to see the contents of the bag. It’s when he starts to get into the second bag that his eyebrows start to rise as he inspects certain ingredients. And the moment he opens the third bag and scans the contents, he shakes his head.

“You bastard.” He replies, but the fondness is palpable even through the screen.

Deku, for his part, looks practically giddy as he shoots up from his seat and crosses to help finish unloading the last bag.

“So!” He says to the camera as he scoots a few things to the other side of the counter. “This is one of the first fun things I said we get to share with you tonight!” He’s beaming as he settles the ingredients. “Tonight Kacchan will still be cooking, of course— I know what you guys come here for— but I’m also going to do a little baking!”

The chat is practically on fire with the news, scrolling so fast that it seems like the screen should feel hot to the touch. There isn’t even a little bit of a hope of reading any of the messages written there for the time being. Discriminating taste had skyrocketed in popularity to the point that hundreds of thousands of people were logged on to watch the stream live. It was amazing that the site didn’t crash entirely.

“Now, I’m definitely nowhere near as talented as Kacchan and as previously stated, he doesn’t even trust me to do the grocery shopping. But he will let me bake from time to time!” Deku turns brilliant green eyes onto Dynamight who is watching his expression closely.

“Why?” Dynamight asks, gesturing vaguely towards the things littering the counter.

“An apology.” Deku replies easily and there seems to be recognition in Dynamight’s eyes immediately. 

“And if I don’t accept your shitty apology?” Dynamight asks, but it’s clear that he’s already softened to the idea.

“You will.” Deku answers with all the confidence in the world. “I’m making your favorite.”

There’s something between them in this episode that’s hard to put a finger on. On one hand, it’s something that seems like it’s always been there, something they’ve been watching unfold for over a month now. On the other hand, it seems different somehow, like it’s grown and taken on a life of its own. There’s something in the way they move around each other, the way they almost can’t hold eye contact with each other. There’s almost a permanent pink dusting to both of their cheeks that even the harsh camera lighting can’t hide. 

“Whatever.” Dynamight says after a minute, reaching over to grab Deku by the arm and drag him back to his usual spot on the counter. “Get out of the way, I have cooking to do.”

“Right!” Deku takes his seat again, glancing back at the camera. “Once he has the food cooking, I’ll start on the baking. That way the show isn’t too long but you get a chance to see what each of us is doing!”

acend_nt: This ep could literally last the entire weekend and I wouldn’t care, I’d watch every single second of it `•~⏳⏱⌛~•`💚🧡

melancholycouchpotato: Cute of Deku to think that we want a shorter episode(੭◌ˊᵕˋ)੭💚🧡

darthdutton: DEKU HONEY WE WANT MORE CONTENT, NOT LESS🪄📈🎦

“You’re just trying to steal my spotlight.” Dynamight remarks as he begins to separate things on the counter, putting some utensils and ingredients down by the ones Deku had left. 

“Never.” Deku says with so much warmth, so much adoration as he stares at Dynamight that for a moment the world feels like it’s come to a complete stop. “I could never outshine you, Kacchan.”

Dynamight looks back at Deku and then it’s not just the world that has come to a stop,  but time, too. Everyone watches as they make eye contact, some question lingering in the air between them. It feels like everyone is collectively on the precise of something but whatever that thing is, it somehow remains unnamed. Because suddenly Kotaro makes his appearance as he hustles on screen, tablet in hand, heading towards his seat at the counter. 

It’s perhaps the first time that everyone isn’t excited to see him.

That’s an unfair representation. They are excited to see him, but the chat is bemoaning the loss of whatever moment he interrupted. 

‘Sorry,” Kotaro says as he drops into his seat, effectively shattering whatever had been building in the barely-there space between the two heroes. “Technical difficulties. I got it to work now so you’ll be able to take turns with the chat as the other one is working.”

“Great.” Deku replies, turning to reach for the tablet, but his movements are stiff and his voice sounds tight, “You  go ahead and start, Kacchan, and I’ll work on finding some comments to answer.”

Dynamight clears his throat, shaking his head in what seems like an attempt to dislodge some thoughts and get himself back on track. He lags for a second, just standing there, before he finally seems to get it together enough to remember what he’s supposed to be doing, turning his gaze towards the camera.

“Right. Well, Deku picked the perfect day to decide to bake, because this recipe is pretty straightforward and easy, so there will be plenty of time for him to do that.” Dynamight finally starts reaching for the ingredients as he says. “Today we’re making Thai Basil Chicken. It’s a stir fry that’s really good reheated. I know a bunch of people have asked for things they make ahead of time and bring to work for lunch the next day— this recipe definitely falls into that category.”

For a moment, Dynamight starts explaining the dish and Deku simply sits off to the side, watching him with an expression that’s somewhere between awestruck and adoring. He looks just as enraptured as the chat is, as if he’s hanging onto every word Dynamight says. Dynamight continues to explain in a way that’s easy to follow, discussing different techniques to improve knife work and talking about when it does and doesn’t matter to have even cuts.

“If it’s vegetables, who gives a shit.” He says, gesturing to the green onion on his cutting board. “Unless it’s going to be part of the presentation of the meal, don’t waste your time. It tastes the same whether you spent five minutes cutting it perfectly or thirty seconds cutting it haphazardly. The point of cooking is to make some good food, not to stress yourself out.”

ktdklover: Honestly hearing Dynamight say this makes me less afraid to cook. I’m always so worried about making it perfect✨😌✌

faekacchan: Did anyone know before this show that Dynamight was so kind?? And understanding??? Like did ANYONE know that?? \(*o*)/   ˗ˋˏ ♡ ˎˊ˗

From there, Dynamight finishes chopping up the meat and as he throws it into the skillet, he turns to nod at Deku. It takes Deku a second, his brain clearly buffering as he tries to tear his eyes away from Dynamight, but he gets there in the end.

“Okay! While that cooks, I’ll get a few minutes to answer some questions. So go ahead and throw them in the chat!” He gestures to the tablet in front of him. 

Instantly, he and Kotaro are putting their heads together as they try to scroll through the comments, mumbling in a way that the microphones pick it up but don’t distinguish the words as they seem to point out different questions here and there.

komaira: Deku, you said you’re baking as an apology. Can you tell us what you’re apologizing for? Totally understand if not!!! (づ •. •)?

Deku reads the comment aloud, turning to glance at Dynamight. “Would you like to do the honors?”

“It’s your apology.” Dynamight remarks, running a spatula through the chicken in the pain. “And your fault.”

The sigh that Deku gives in response isn’t actually exasperated, even though it’s clear that he wants it to be. “Fine, I’ll be the one to break the good news.” And then he glances at Kotaro. “I can tell them, can’t I?”

Kotaro smiles, “Yes, you can tell them.”

“Great!” Deku turns back to face the camera. “Then here we go! This actually won’t be the last episode of this cooking show! It’s being extended by one more week, which means that you’ll get at least one more delicious recipe from Kacchan!”

The chat is so excited to hear the news, most of the comments in all caps, that it takes them a moment to even realize that Deku didn’t actually answer the question in anyway.

“Idiot.” Dynamight says, as if he were reading the comments, even though that was impossible from his place at the stove. “That doesn’t explain why you’re apologizing.”

“I was getting to that!”

“Not today, clearly.”

“Kacchan.”

Dynamight just grins.

“Anyway. When we first agreed to this cooking show, we agreed to six episodes, as you all know. Kacchan will have fulfilled his part of the deal, but since I wasn’t here the week you guys got to spend with Eijiro, I still have one more episode that I owe you. And since the deal was that Kacchan cooks and I eat, well, I can’t exactly do another episode without him. So now we’ll both be back next week.”

Dynamight points his spatula at Deku. “He does nothing but cause me more work.”

“That’s not even true!” Deku interjects immediately. “I try to cause you as little work as possible!”

“Name the last time you lightened my load.” Dynamight crosses his arms over his chest as he leans against the counter, clearly waiting.

“I did all of your laundry yesterday .” Deku answers immediately. 

“You were doing your laundry and threw a few of my shirts in.” Dynamight dismisses. “That hardly counts.”

“A few of your shirts?” Deku echoes incredulously. “I did like three loads of clothes! I even folded them all and put them away for you!”

For a second, Dynamight stands there in silence. Then, he turns abruptly back to the camera, as if removing Deku from the conversation. “It’s his fault I have to do more work, that’s the fucking point here.”

Kotaro laughs and tries to cover it up with a cough. Deku sighs and turns back to the tablet.

freckles_and_flowers: What is it that you’re going to bake for us?? ฅ/ᐠ｡ꞈ｡ᐟ\ฅ 🍰 ❓

“Oh!” He perks up immediately, as if he hadn’t just been deflated by Dynamight. “Well, Kacchan doesn’t really have much of a sweet tooth, but there is one dessert he likes. It’s not as sweet as most things, but the flavors are really good together and the texture is always great. It’s called Black Pearl Cupcakes, if you guys have heard of it? My mom made them once when we were younger and I think it was the first time either of us ever saw Kacchan eat a dessert.”

“I ate like six of them.” Dynamight reminisces from the stove. 

“Yeah,” Deku’s smile is fond, and a little far away, as if he were remembering child Dynamight and the cupcakes. “You had her make them for you on your birthday every year after that. So when I got old enough to learn, I had her teach me so I could make them for you.”

There’s a barely-there moment that punctuates the silence between Deku’s statement and the one Dynamight makes next. It’s not even long enough to take in a full breath, but it is long enough to feel important, to feel heavy. It’s long enough for the implication of those words to settle into the hearts of everyone watching and to make it clear that Dynamight’s response is an attempt to lighten the mood. The pause after Deku finishes talking is just long enough to make it feel like some sort of confession if they read between the lines— and everyone in the chat was more than willing to do exactly that.

“Hers are still better.” Dynamight glances away.

Some timer that he had set goes off and he reaches for the heat on the stove, turning it off. Deku falls silent as Dynamight starts explaining the next steps and discussing the pros and cons of making sauce or using store bought sauce. The chat listens attentively, but there’s still that same unidentified current filling the air, like static on a channel that’s not quite clear enough.

Once he has moved on to performing some steps that he’s just explained, Deku pops up from his seat and makes his way over to his own ingredients. 

“Don’t you fucking dare.” Dynamight says immediately and Deku freezes.

“Don’t bake my cupcakes?”

“Just— hold on a second.” Dynamight finishes tossing some things together in a pan and then rushes off the screen suddenly. 

Deku and Kotaro watch him, their eyes and heads moving in unison as they track him through his own flat. They look equally as confused as the chat feels, no clear idea of where he’s going or why. It only lasts a minute or so, some faint rustling through the microphone and a few mumbled curses, a bang that suggests that Dynamight whacked either an elbow or a knee on a table. And then he’s suddenly back, a balled up piece of orange fabric in his hand.

“I didn’t know when I was going to give this to you,” Dynamight says as he extends the fabric out towards Deku. It’s not folded neatly in any way, crumpled in his hand and clearly wrinkled, even from the distance of the cameras. “But you’ve now given me the perfect opportunity.”

Clearly confused, Deku takes the piece of fabric and opens it, his eyes going wide and his cheeks going red as he suddenly clutches it to his chest. “Kacchan!”

“Go on,” Dynamight encourages, gesturing towards the camera. “Show everyone the amazing gift I got you.”

“I can’t!” Deku says, clutching it even tighter to his chest. “It has a bad word on it!”

Dynamight looks unimpressed, rolling his eyes before going, “Shit. Fuck. Ass. Damn.”

“What are you doing?” Deku and Kotaro say in unison, Kotaro rising from his seat in alarm.

“There.” Dynamight turns to look at the camera. “Did you all survive some bad words? Amazing. Now fucking show them, Deku.”

“Can we not do something like that again?” Kotaro asks. “Please?”

Dynamight waves a hand in dismissive response and Kotaro slumps his shoulders. But even though he looks defeated, he doesn’t have the same discouraged or timid air he used to have. Instead he looks a little bit annoyed, which is something the chat never expected to see of him. People immediately begin calling for Kotaro to get the raise he so clearly deserves, sympathizing with his struggles. As entertaining as Deku and Dynamight were, they must be hard to manage— in fact, they almost seemed to go out of their way to be hard to manage. 

“When did you even make this?” Deku almost looks scandalized.

“Literally the day after you gave me this piece of shit.” Dynamight gestures towards the apron draped around him. He may refer to it as a piece of shit, but it’s clear by how pristine it is that he takes perfect care of it. “Had no idea when I’d get the chance to get my revenge, but I had to be prepared.”

“And you had to make it say this? ?”

“Yes.”

“Kacchan—“

“Just show them .” 

Deku hesitates for one second before pinching his eyes shut and flipping the orange fabric around.

The first thing that becomes clear is that it’s an apron, too. Before anyone even reads what’s written on the front, the chat loves it. It’s hilarious payback for the green apron that’s currently draped over Katsuki’s body and tied in the back. And then everyone gets a chance to read the bold black letters that say DYNAMIGHT’S BITCH on the front of the apron and the chat collectively loses their minds.

It was surprising that there had only been a few comments here or there about what Dynamight had said the week prior. It was almost like everyone had been holding their breath in anticipation of him saying something else, afraid that if they mentioned it, they would somehow jinx the entire thing. But seeing the apron almost lay claim to Deku, there’s no escaping all of the comments about the near proposal the week before. And judging by the look on Kotaro’s face and the speed at which he’s trying to scroll through all the comments, he sees them.

those_ships_tho: HOW MANY WAYS CAN DYNAMIGHT CLAIM HIS MAN WITHOUT CLAIMING HIS MAN 🤔🤨🧐

fangirl_on_fire: STOPPPPPPPPPPPP✋👁️👄👁️🤚

catt811 : I literally— I don’t have words for this. I really don’t. ∑(O_O;)

luvslove: DYNAMIGHTS! BITCH! DYNAMIGHTS! BITCH!🧨🐕💥

Deku’s face has turned entirely red as he sets the apron onto the counter and then folds himself over it, pressing his forehead against it. Even with his face hidden like that, the color at the tips of his ears is easily visible. Dynamight stands a few feet away looking unbelievably smug.

“Well hurry you ass up and put it on, you’ve got to get baking.” He says, reaching out to give Deku a shove.

Deku whines, lifting his pleading gaze to Dynamight who doesn’t flinch even a little bit. When he makes no move to do anything, Dynamight yanks the apron off the counter and begins to sling it over Deku’s head. It’s shockingly familiar, a throwback to the picture that had gone viral of Deku placing the apron over Dynamight’s head. It’s equally as intimate, though Deku doesn’t need to go up on his toes for this exchange. 

Once the apron is settled against his chest, Dynamight grabs Deku by the shoulders and spins him, deftly tying the apron behind his back so he can’t wear it. Deku stands with his back to Dynamight, face buried in his hands as he mumbles something that the microphone doesn’t even try to pick up properly.

my_pronouns_arent: Do we think Deku is so embarrassed because Dynamight just doesn’t realize how in love he is?🥦🙈🤭

404missing : The ONLY person I will let take away my title of “Dynamight’s Bitch” is Deku. 😌🤲🥦

With the apron fully secured, Dynamight gives him a semi-mocking pat on the shoulder and steps back to allow Deku to get to his baking. It takes him several long seconds and some obvious deep breaths— his shoulders visible rise and fall as his chest expands— before he’s able to drop his hands away from his face and turn back to the camera.

“So,” He starts out, and his voice is feeble and strained. “The Black Pearl Cupcakes—“

Mercifulcitrouille: OMG he’s so embarrassed! I actually feel kind of bad,🥺😬😳

belle_dear33: I appreciate how hard he’s trying to act like everything is normal. It’s not, baby, and we know that, but we can all pretend!!😌🤥😃

It takes a few minutes and a few times of clearing his throat before Deku’s explanations start sounding like there’s any confidence behind them at all. His hands shake for the first few things he shows everyone, but then he starts to get in the groove of it and his nerves and discomfort seem to settle a little bit. He’s not quite as good as Dynamight is at explaining things, but he’s good enough that everyone feels like they can follow along and would be able to make this recipe, too. He stirs a little too quickly, some of the flour coming out of the bowl in a puff.

The moment the flour touches his apron, he whips his head around to look at Dynamight, as if warning him not to make any comment. Dynamight doesn’t,  but there’s a self satisfied grin on his face that says more than words ever could. 

Deku finishes his batter, remembering halfway through mixing ingredients that he never turned the oven on to preheat, only to learn that Dynamight had sneakily done it for him right off the bat. Dynamight makes some comment about how Deku always forgets to preheat the oven and Deku smiles sheepishly as he wipes flour off of his face, not contradicting the statement in any way. He finishes stirring after that, doling the batter into cupcake liners and placing the tin in the oven. Once everything is done and the timer is set, Deku washes his hands and all but collapses back into his chair.

The food that Dynamight had been cooking had been done for a few minutes at this point, waiting patiently on the counter. There’s a suspicious four bowls sitting out instead of the usual three, but so far nobody has acknowledged them in any way. Once Deku finally melts back into his seat and throws himself on the counter, ignoring a pointed kick to his chair from Dynamight as he passes by to go to the fridge for drinks, all attention seems to focus back on that bowl.

“I didn’t really get to answer any questions since I was also cooking while he was baking.” Dynamight slides a bottle of water down the counter towards Deku, carrying two of the bowls over before returning for the other two.

“Are you complaining, Kacchan?” Deku turns his head sideways so he can better see Dynamight. “I thought you hated everything about this show?”

“I do.” Dynamight remarks, gently whacking the back of Deku’s head. “I wasn’t fucking complaining, I was celebrating.”

Deku shakes his head as he turns towards the camera, lifting one hand to cover his mouth as if letting everyone in the chat in on a secret, despite saying it loud enough that Dynamight can clearly hear him. “He secretly loves that you guys like his recipes so much. He puts a lot of thought into picking them out each week and really listens to your requests.”

Try39 : It’s actually so sweet that Dynamight really listens to what we want to see (୨୧ᵕ̤ᴗᵕ̤)🧨🫰

Adorathehistoriaaan: I don’t know when he gets the time to put the touch effort into us??? He has a whole ass job saving the city already??🦸♂️🧨💣

Renn._obvi: Why does it make me feel so soft to know that Dynamight is really out here trying his best for us??(*ᴗ͈ˬᴗ͈)ꕤ*.ﾟ

Chaotic__Energy: I love how he tries to silence Deku like we don’t all already know(◡ ‿ ◡ ✿)🧡🫶💚

“Oi!” Dynamight slaps a hadn’t on the counter to make a point. “Do you want me to take your food away?”

“He could just eat that one,” Kotaro points to the fourth bowl on the counter, drawing the collective attention to it.

“That’s for Naoki!” Deku pipes up immediately, finally straightening up in his chair. “I couldn’t eat their food! Besides, Kacchan would never actually take my food away.”

But the end of Deku’s sentence seems to be lost on Kotaro who is staring at him with wide eyes. Deku glances over his shoulder at Dynamight and they exchange some sort of knowing look that the entirety of the chat catches onto immediately. Before anyone has a chance to really pose any questions, though, Deku is glancing off screen to the right of where the cameras are. 

“Naoki, do you want to come join us?”

There’s some rustling, some whispered answers and Dynamight staring impatiently before someone else finally appears on screen. They don’t look as awkward as Kotaro looks— both when Kotaro first started appearing on screen and now in this exact moment when he looks like he might shrink in on himself and disappear if left alone for a few too many seconds. They hesitate in front of the counter for just a second before Dynamight is indicating a location for them and divvying the bowls of food up, The timer for the cupcakes continues to tick away in the background.

“Everyone, this is Naoki! They’re one of our crew members. We know they’ve been a pretty big help to Kotaro and so we had decided that we wanted to thank them with a meal on our last episode!” Deku explains. “Though now we know this isn’t our last episode, so maybe you can see Naoki two weeks in a row!”

Kotaro almost chokes on the bite of food that he’s taking.

It’s Naoki who is first to respond, reaching over to pat him on the back. Deku is the second to respond, holding up his glass of water for when he finally gets his breath back.

dekiru_kari: NO NOT KOTARO(ง ͠ಥ_ಥ)ง💔

Rcyolo: Pls tell me you all think that there’s something going on here?? Like more than just “colleagues'' for Kotaro and Naoki??( ≖‿  ≖ )🎥🫰🔦

rieee_25: Deku does look awfully suspicious, ngl(   ͡º ꒳ ͡º)💚

“Sorry,” Kotaro manages through a few coughs, reaching out to take the glass of water from Deku. 

“Are you okay?” Naoki asks, their hand still on Kotaro’s shoulder now.

Kotaro simply nods, eyes downcast.

Sandbones: NEW SHIP NEW SHIP NEW SHIP 🛥️🎇💓

Deku watches them interact for a moment, eyes fond and smile pleased before reaching for his own bowl of food and clearly trying to downplay whatever it was he was trying to do. “Well, while we eat, why don’t you guys ask Kacchan all those questions that he’s so sad to have missed out on?”

Dynamight reaches out to try and swipe Deku’s bowl of food out from in front of him but Deku’s too fast, sliding it out of his reach before his fingers can even graze the bowl.

In the end, they settle into a more comfortable conversation. Naoki seems to fit in well, holding their own in conversation. Kotaro eventually comes back out of his shell, laughing as Dynamight tells a story of the first time he went grocery shopping with Deku as an adult. The way he tells it, Deku put no regard into how he selected any of the items he was meant to be purchasing. He would simply walk by and grab one, tossing it in his cart without ever inspecting this. Dynamight talks about how it was the time he threw two badly bruised apples into his cart that he finally put an end to it, forcing Deku to put every single item back and starting from scratch.

Deku tries to defend himself, making up some excuse about time but Dynamight refuses to hear it. Kotaro and Naoki aren’t on his side either, but Kotaro at least seems to be apologetic about it. Deku looks forlorn, but he laughs anyway as he recalls the way Dynamight had marched him back through the store and forced him to put everything away— even things that came in boxes and couldn’t be bruised. 

By the time that story is finally over and everyone has had their fill of ridiculing Deku affectionately, the cupcakes have come out of the oven and are cool enough to be frosted. While Deku works on that, Dynamight takes the tablet for one more question.

He scrolls for a second before bursting out in laughter,

FroggyFrog4: Would it be possible for Dynamight to go a whole episode without swearing? I mean he even got Deku an apron that swears!🙅🤬💥

“What’s so funny?” Deku asks, not glancing up. He pokes the tip of his tongue out as he concentrates.

“Someone wants to know if I could go a whole episode without swearing.” Dynamight laughs. “I mean, I could but I’m not fucking going to!”

“You really should consider it.” Deku remarks, gaze still focused as he slowly rotates the cupcake in his hand.

“Fuck no.” Dynamight dismisses easily. “And there’s no way you could make me.”

That gets Deku to finally move his focus off of the cupcake in his hand, gaze focusing in on Dynamight. “I bet I could.”

“No fucking way .” 

“Fine.” Deku narrows his eyes. “I accept the challenge.”

“It’s not a challenge.”

“I’ll do it next week since we only have one more episode.”

“Deku—“

Deku turns to look at the camera. “You heard it— next week, Kacchan will go the entire episode without swearing!”

“Hah.” Dynamight shakes his head. “You guys are gonna see what a liar he is next week.”

Deku lobs a cupcake at Dynamight’s head but he catches it easily. He eats it before Deku has even finished doling out the rest of them and his words may be muffled by cupcake but it’s clear that whatever he’s trying to say as he eats is praise for Deku’s baking. The episode ends with Deku’s pleased smile as he stares fondly at Dynamight's profile, holding his own cupcake in his hand but clearly forgetting to eat it. 

Once the cameras have shut off and all the crew members have started disassembling their rigs, Izuku sneaks off to the side of the kitchen where Kotaro is standing. The plan hadn’t originally been to invite Naoki out while the show was still airing, but Izuku had panicked. After being forced to come face to face with his feelings, he was feeling suffocated by the knowledge that everyone was watching their every move, scrutinizing everything he did for the signs he didn’t know he’d been giving off for years. 

He hadn’t meant to throw Kotaro under the bus, he really hadn’t. They had been planning to feed Naoki so Katsuki had made the extra serving, as Izuku had requested. That serving was just supposed to sit there, to not draw any attention from the internet. But when Izuku suddenly needed the attention off of him and his apron that he still can’t wrap his mind around, it had been the only thing he’d been able to think to do. 

“I’m—“ He says as he approaches. “Was that okay? That we invited Naoki out? I didn’t want to make you uncomfortable or anything,  but I just—“

Kotaro cuts him off kindly. “Is it that obvious?”

There’s an undercurrent in Kotaro’s voice that he recognizes. It’s the feeling he gets every time someone points out how obvious his feelings for Katsuki had been without his knowledge. 

Izuku hesitates for a moment before offering what he hopes is an encouraging smile. “Yeah. It kind of is.” 

Kotaro sighs and leans back against the wall. “I don’t know what to do about it.”

For a moment, Izuku doesn’t say anything. He’s certainly not in the position to be giving advice in this category. The realization from Ochako’s was still sitting a little sideways in his gut, still made it a little hard for him to swallow. There had been numerous times in this episode where he had made eye contact with Katsuki and nearly had his breath stolen from him. He’d already known Katsuki was beautiful— anyone with eyes knew that— but whatever he had figured out and then subsequently buried seemed to put a whole new light onto him and now he was stunning . 

“I think you should go for it.” Izuku finally manages to say. “What’s the worst that could happen?”

“They could say no.” Kotaro offers. “And then it could ruin everything and we could never talk again.”

And, okay, it’s one of those arguments that Izuku wants to refute but can’t because he finds himself falling into the same thought process every time he tries to think about what he’s supposed to do with his own thoughts and feelings. Because truthfully, nothing is scarier than the idea of losing the person that means that much. So Izuku gets it, he really gets it.

“I really think they feel the same way.” He says instead, because he can’t in good conscience tell Kotaro not to feel something that he, himself, feels. “So I don’t think they would say no.”

Kotaro looks at him for a long moment, clearly trying to decide something. Izuku isn’t sure what it is, but the decision process is obvious in his expression. Finally, he seems to have come to some conclusion.

“So if I obviously like someone, and they, apparently, obviously like me back…” He hedges and he doesn’t need to say any more for Izuku to understand his point.

Immediately his ears are aflame again, he can feel the heat all the way down the back of his neck. “I— I can’t speak for anyone else!” He says hurriedly. “I just think you should go for it! But do whatever you’re comfortable with, because that’s what matters. As long as you two are on the same page, who cares what anyone else thinks?”

At that, Kotaro lets out a quiet huff of a laugh. “Yeah,” He says. “I’ll think about it.” He pauses for a second and then as he’s walking back towards the rest of the crew, he glances over his shoulder and adds, “You should think about it, too.” 

Chapter Text

@LadyGlitterSparkles 1 day ago

What’s the ship name for Kotaro/Naoki because I ship the hell out of it!

🗯2  ↻ 4 ♡17

     ↳ @VeeTheBeesKnees 22 hours ago

     @LadyGlitterSparkles Kotoki? Nataro?

     🗯1  ↻ 0 ♡2

          ↳SliceOfLuck 10 hours ago

          @LadyGlitterSparkles  @VeeTheBeesKnees Came for bkdk, stayed for Kotoki

         🗯0  ↻ 0 ♡1

@Lilla123321 21 hours ago

I can’t believe my favorite ship is out there actively shipping other people

🗯5  ↻ 29 ♡113

     ↳ @GhostOfDiamonds 15 hours ago

     @Lilla123321 Seriously!! Like they were absolutely trying to set up Kotaro and Naoki, right? 

     🗯0  ↻ 0 ♡3

@Liriosha 57 minutes ago 

Bkdk is that married couple that’s so stupidly and sickly in love that they’re spreading it to the people around them 

🗯15  ↻ 112 ♡263

     ↳@smallmight1 3 seconds ago

     @Liriosha Or they’re just good friends who want the people around them to be happy!! 

     🗯0  ↻ 0 ♡0

“You ruined my life.” Izuku bemoans as he throws himself down over the bathroom counter, his toothbrush still dripping in the cup next to the sink.

Katsuki had left early in the morning, required to attend some debrief of a mission he’d gone on recently. Sometimes Izuku attended the debriefs with him— not because he needed the information but because he just liked to know. He was always happy to learn more about the villains that plagued their city and the different quirks that they were up against, plus some extra time with Katsuki was never something Izuku would turn down. But ever since Ochako had put a spotlight on his feelings, Izuku had felt like he was vibrating underneath his skin, double and triple guessing every single interaction he had with Katsuki. 

In short, he couldn’t calm down.

“I did not ruin your life.” Ochako says easily on the other end of the line. Izuku can’t see her, but he can imagine her waving a hand dismissively in front of her face. “It’s not like I created your feelings for Katsuki. I just pointed them out.”

“There—” Izuku starts to reply, but Ochako cuts him off before he gets any further into the sentence.

“Honestly, sometimes I think you were literally born in love with him. Like, there’s never been a moment of your life that hasn’t revolved around him.” Izuku makes a sort of choked or strangled noise as he sinks to the ground, allowing his knees to bend underneath him. Whatever he says in response isn’t really words, but it’s distressed enough that Ochako amends her statement. “Okay, that might be a little too much. But only a little. You’ve definitely been in love with him for as long as I’ve known you.”

At this point, Izuku is more or less a puddle on the ground of Katsuki’s bathroom floor, cheek pressed to the cold tile and legs bent at weird angles. He spares a moment to consider how feasible it would be for him to stay like this permanently— to really embrace the identity of a puddle and just never face this situation. Puddles don’t fall in love with people, and puddles certainly are faced with the dilemma that Izuku is currently struggling with. Honestly, the worst thing puddles deal with is people stepping in them and Izuku made fighting villains his entire career so it’s not like he’s unaccustomed to a few kicks.

But then he thinks about Katsuki coming home and finding him like this, a disassembled pile of limbs on his bathroom floor. He thinks about how Katsuki would roll his eyes and nudge Izuku with his toes until Izuku finally relented and turned him into something that was more human than puddle shaped. And that part was fine and well enough, except that Izuku knew the questions would come after. Katsuki would want to know why he had spent his day melted on the bathroom floor and Izuku couldn’t even face that scenario in his mind— he couldn’t even imagine himself answering that question so he knew that he would not survive the encounter if it actually happened.

“I’m never speaking to you again.” He mumbles into the phone, his mouth forming the words weird from the way his cheek is pressed to the ground. 

“You’re being so dramatic about this.” Ochako chides him fondly from the other end of the line. Izuku can hear her moving around, can faintly hear the sound of something clanking and scraping and he thinks she’s probably cooking breakfast in the kitchen. How simple it must be for her, he thinks, to be able to go on with her normal morning routine, to not feel the burden of what is the most earth-shattering revelation of all time. How nice, to not have had her entire world turned on its axis, even though it somehow doesn’t look any different at all.

Because Izuku— Izuku can’t continue on like normal. He can’t look at Katsuki ever again without those forbidden words jumping to the tip of his tongue, kicking against the inside of his teeth in a desperate attempt to get out. He can’t ever have his fingers accidentally brush Katsuki’s without feeling the entire world— time, too— come to a complete stop. If this morning is anything to go by, he can’t even look at Katsuki and breathe at the same time anymore. Katsuki had slapped him between the shoulders with a confused look on his face before telling him to get his shit together before he came home this evening. 

Before he came home . The implication that Izuku would be here when he got back was not lost on Izuku, and neither was the fact that it was home when they were together. He’d thought about it for so long after that, the words didn’t even sound like words anymore. He had, of course, tried to find a million different meanings in Katsuki’s words, tried to look at them from every angle, to parse them for literally any other thought that the one that had plagued him since the moment the words had left Katsuki’s lips, but no matter how much he scrutinized it, he couldn’t see it any differently. The words had exited Katsuki’s mouth at nearly the same time Katsuki himself had exited the flat and Izuku probably continued standing in the same spot, paralyzed, for like ten minutes before he finally got up the guts to even take a sit, his knees feeling like they’d give out on him if he tried to move. 

“You don’t get it.” Izuku says instead, because he doesn’t think he can tell Ochako about that. Not because he knows that she’s going to say what he’s already thinking but because it’s something precious and tender already, something that he wants to guard and keep close to his heart, even though he knows that’s foolish and also driving Ochako’s point home and then some.

“No, I don’t.” Ochako agrees but all ancillary noise on the other end seems to cease abruptly, as if she has completely paused everything she’s doing to listen to what Izuku is about to say. It’s like she can sense the thoughts that are weighing on him— or maybe she can just hear it in his words. “So explain it to me.”

Izuku wishes he could.

He wishes that he could tell her that she was right at least to some extent— his world has always started and ended with Katsuki. From when they were kids, Izuku was making up stories with him in the middle of the night, dreaming about fighting villains together instead of sleeping to using the first pages of his first ever hero analysis notebook to write down everything he knew about Katsuki. From his very earliest memories, everything involved Katsuki. He always wanted to share everything with him, to show him every wonder of the world. As much as Izuku had always wanted to be a hero, had always dreamed of saving people the way All Might did, he’d always wanted to be at Katsuki’s side more. Izuku knows, in the deepest depths of his heart, if he had been told to choose between being a hero and having Katsuki in his life, he would’ve chosen Katsuki every single time. There were other fulfilling careers he could choose, other paths he could take— and he would, without hesitation, if those other paths guaranteed him to stay in step at Katsuki’s side. 

He wishes that he could tell her that even now, his world revolves around Katsuki. He wakes up next to him almost every day, falls asleep next to him practically every night. They had gone from spending some days together to most days together, to now Katsuki says the word home and he means this flat with both of them in it. Honestly, Izuku thinks he could probably sell his own flat and move all his stuff in and Katsuki wouldn’t say anything about it. He would notice, of course, because he’s far more observant and perceptive than anyone gives him credit for, but he wouldn’t mind. It’s a truth that Izuku’s bones know, even if his brain doesn’t and his heart is afraid to accept it. 

He wishes he could tell her that every dream he has for his future now still involves Katsuki. That no matter what version of his future he sees in front of him, all of them have Katsuki in them. Every single one.

And yeah, fine, now that Ochako had made him realize that the other feelings he’d been aware of but ignoring for a while were more than friendship, some of those fantasy futures had them closer than they were now, doing things that he was too embarrassed to admit, even to himself. But not a single one had them less close than they were now, not a single one had any additional distance between them. And that’s what Izuku was afraid of.

If he told Katsuki how he was feeling— or, more realistically, if Katsuki figured it out on his own— that had the potential to drive a wedge between them. And if that happened, literally every single future he had ever dreamed of for himself would go up in smoke and the entire track of his life would be lost. And it sounds as dramatic as Ochako is accusing him of being, he can admit that,  but it’s really not over dramatic. It’s exactly the right amount of dramatic because it’s simply the truth— everything would be lost. 

“Ochako,” Izuku says after a moment, shifting so his words are able to come out a little more clearly. Even to his own ears, he sounds uncharacteristically serious, and a little down. “You don’t understand how hard I had to fight to get this spot at his side.”

“I was there in high school, Izuku.”

“But you weren’t there in middle school. You have heard stories, but besides Kacchan and I, nobody really has the full picture. We had a lot to overcome and it was incredibly hard. Worth it— more than worth it, but harder than anything else. And I’m so glad to be here, so thankful . I can’t risk ruining that,” Izuku feels like his throat is a little tight, but he tries not to think about it too much. He presses his feet against the edge of the tub and tries to let that cool tile shock his system. 

“Okay but what if—”

“What if it works out? Of course that would be great. But what if it doesn’t? That risk isn’t worth it. You don’t understand, there isn’t anything I would give Kacchan up for, and that includes my own heart.” And there it is, the truth as plainly as he can state it. “I won’t pick my own feelings over him, ever. And if there’s even a chance that this could scare him away or change things between us, it’s not worth it.”

Ochako is silent for a long moment on the other side of the phone. And then she lets out a slow breath and in it, Izuku can hear her own sadness. “You really mean that, don’t you? You won’t even choose yourself over him?”

“Never.”

And he means it. With every fiber of his being. He really, truly means it.

“Fine,” Ochako says on the end of a sigh. “But if, say, Katsuki were to make the first move, then you wouldn’t deny it, right?”

Izuku shoots up so fast that it makes him dizzy. His legs are a tangled mess underneath him as he leans to the side and puts his weight into the cupboards under the sink. “ What ?”

“Just answer the question.”

“No, no, no.” Izuku shakes his head and even though Ochako can’t see it, Izuku is certain that she can feel it. Certain that she can picture him in this exact vulnerable position, can picture the way his eyes are about to pop straight out of his head. “Why would you ask me that question?”

“That is not a realization you’re ready to have.” Ochako replies airily. “You’re already dealing poorly with the first realization, you can’t afford to have another one right now.”

“Ochako,” Izuku says in what is meant to be a warning tone but misses by about a mile and a half. He sounds more terrified than anything else and honestly, that’s not too far off. “What are you—”

“Just answer the question, Izuku. We can talk about why or what another day, okay?”

Izuku swallows, closes his eyes. Somehow he thinks answering the question will either be easier or less embarrassing if he’s not staring at the inside of Katsuki’s bathroom as he answers it. He would like for it to be both but he knows that his luck simply can’t be that good. “What was the question again?”

“If Katsuki were to make the first move,” Ochako repeats and each word is harder to hear the second time, as impossible as that seems. “Like, say, ask you on a date, what would you say?”

“That is not the same question you asked earlier.” Izuku protests even though he knows it won’t do him any good. Anything to delay answering that question though, because he already feels like his heart is going to beat straight out of his chest at just the processing of the question. 

“That’s the one I’m asking now.” Ochako says with all the finality that tells Izuku he has no choice but to answer it. If he doesn’t, he knows she’ll just keep calling him over and over and over again and if that doesn’t work, she’s absolutely not above showing up at Katsuki’s and breaking his door down. “So answer.”

In the smallest voice he can manage, hoping that saying it quietly will somehow not make it real, Izuku answers. “I would say yes.”

Ochako is quiet for a second, and then her voice is unbearably fond when she responds and it makes Izuku rethink his commitment to spending his day as a puddle on the floor. He’d have enough time to come up with some lie to spin to Katsuki that would be at least believable enough that Katsuki would drop the topic, even if he knew Izuku was lying. And that might honestly be preferable to listening to Ochako and her stupid, life-ruining thoughts. 

“I’m really proud of you.” She says. “I mean, you’re ten years late to figuring out your own feelings and everyone else already knows but you got there and you admitted it and I was honestly starting to think that would never happen.”

“If you were trying to be encouraging,” Izuku replies, decidedly keeping his eyes fixed in the distance so he can’t even chance a glimpse at his blushing reflection. “You did a terrible job.” 

Ochako laughs, warm and unbothered. “Admitting it to yourself is step one. Admitting it to me is step two. Step three, of course, is admitting it to Katsuki.”

“I’m not—“

“Unless, of course, Katsuki were to admit it to you, first.” Ochako says with all the knowledge that competing with Katsuki has been a driving factor in Izuku’s life for as long as he’s been alive. Though it hasn’t always been competing as much as it was chasing after and even emulating , but the point remains the same— if it’s something Katsuki might do, Izuku wants to do it, too.

“I’m not falling for that.” Izuku says levelly, “Besides—“

“Fine, fine!” Ochako cuts in, yet again. “I’ll drop it. I did say that’s a realization you aren’t ready for yet and I meant it.”

Izuku sighs. “Are we done here?”

“For now.” Ochako chirps and then promptly hangs up. 

The debrief was as boring as every other one has been in the entirety of his career. By the time they happen, the case is already closed and Katsuki has already heard all the information that he needs to hear. Anything else, he doesn’t really care about. So it’s just a rehashing of information he either already knows or doesn’t want to know and neither of those things is particularly interesting to him. Still, he has no choice but to attend, to present his part about whatever role he played in the case, and then he’s left alone to stare at the wall and filter out all the information that he doesn’t care about. 

Today, his brain is especially easy to distract, immediately jumping back to this morning with Izuku in their flat. He’s about halfway through replaying the entire thing before he realizes that he referred to it as their flat in the privacy of his own brain instead of his flat and suddenly, every other train of thought that he had been following is completely gone as he’s left to ponder that. When, exactly, had he started to think of it as Izuku’s home, too? Yeah, the goddamn mooch was there pretty much every single day but that didn’t mean—

That didn’t mean that the flat would feel empty if he wasn’t there. It didn’t mean that Katsuki would instinctively always pull out a second glass, set another place at the table, or look for a second load of laundry to do. It didn’t mean that the place would suddenly look strange if it didn’t have Izuku’s ugly ass All Might blanket all crumpled on the couch, or if there wasn’t a second set of shoes just inside the door.

Except, all of those things were true. If Izuku were to suddenly vacate his flat, were to suddenly stop spending the amount of time there that he had been spending there lately, everything would feel wrong. The flat wouldn’t feel like home if Izuku were suddenly no longer there. It would still have every piece of furniture that Katsuki had bought, every picture he had hung on the walls and somehow it wouldn’t feel like he belonged there anymore. It would be exactly as it was the day he moved in and started calling it home but it would suddenly lack all the warmth, all the personality, all the feelings that made it a home instead of just four walls to live inside. 

Katsuki allows this realization to sit for a moment before he moves onto his next question which is: when the hell did he start considering Izuku home ? Sure, when he was a kid, he had the house he lived in and then he had his spot by Izuku’s side and each of those offered him the same sense of belonging. And so yeah, whatever, when he was a kid with a looser grasp on the concept, he would’ve said that he considered Izuku his home, too, But then they’d gone through all the shit that happened after Katsuki developed his quirk and the world’s worst attitude in about the same week, and definitely during those times Katsuki wouldn’t have said a single kind thing about Izuku, let alone that Izuku felt like home to him.

But if he really thinks about it and is honest with himself— something he hasn’t mastered yet but definitely has improved— he can admit that in those years Izuku’s side would’ve still felt like home if he’d allowed himself to be there. If he hadn’t spent so long deliberately being a piece of shit, he would’ve found the same acceptance and comfort that he found as a child and that he found now as a grown ass adult who had mostly pulled his head out of his ass. So maybe Izuku had always embodied home to him, had always given him that feeling that was supposed to be associated with the place someone belonged. 

He tries to separate it in his mind— the items in his flat and the energy that Izuku brings to it. He tries to turn them into separate entities and see how he feels and it becomes abundantly clear to him all at once. He could move the furniture, the pictures, all the knick knacks and small touches into house after house, into a new flat in a new town or a penthouse overlooking the ocean and it wouldn’t feel quite like home to him. But if he pictures some place that doesn’t have a single thing he’s ever owned, doesn’t have any of his furniture or his pictures, nothing that he currently has in his home— if he pictures that place, but imagines Izuku standing in the middle of that room, that feels like home. 

And isn’t that a hell of a realization to try and reconcile.

Because it had always been that way if he really inspected it and that’s why he’d never really bothered to inspect it. Most people didn’t grow up to question things that they had known as unwavering truths as children, and this fell into that category. For literally Katsuki’s entire memory, Izuku has felt this way to him. So he’s never thought twice about it, never really bothered to pick it apart and see what he finds inside. He’s continued to simply accept it as a truth and move on with his life, focused on things like school and hero work instead because he’d never been forced to question this before. Now he understands why Eijiro told him to pay attention and he’s less than thrilled about the results of it.

“Alright,” someone claps their hands and Katsuki startles, not realizing that the meeting was wrapping up. “Does anybody have any questions?”

There’s a murmur that spreads around the table they’re all sitting at confirming that everyone is comfortable with the information they have received and that all necessary documentation is complete and filed correctly. From there it takes just a few quick seconds for everyone to disband and Katsuki is more than happy to throw his chair back and stand up, stretching his arms over his head. He doesn’t technically have anything that he has to rush off to complete, but he’ll be damned before he gets caught up in a conversation with any of the other idiots in this room who would no doubt want to talk to him about the useless information that he definitely didn’t listen to during this meeting.

“Bakugo,” Katsuki would roll his eyes at his bad luck of being caught before he could sneak out of the room, except it isn’t one of the other idiots in the room requesting his attention, it’s Michael. And there’s something in his expression that Katsuki has never seen. “Would you mind walking back to my office with me?”

“Would I mind?” Katsuki replies gruffly, just for the sake of being contrary. “Absolutely.”

Michael offers him a roll of the eyes and gestures towards the door.

Goddamn, this whole cooking show hasn’t just made the public view him as soft, it’s made his coworkers view him as soft, too. People fucking greet him in the hallway now or clap him on the shoulder. Nobody cowers when he comes into a room and now Michael is rolling his eyes at Katsuki. If Katsuki weren’t so surprised that the asshole has a personality, he’d be annoyed by it. 

Still, he stalks out the door and navigates the winding hallways to Michael’s office, chagrined to find that Michael stays in perfect step with him the entire way, though he doesn’t say anything. That unidentifiable feeling surrounds Michael as he speeds up the last few steps, just to get ahead of Katsuki so he can unlock the door to his office and push it open for Katsuki. 

It’s a strange feeling to  walk into Michael’s office ahead of him because, for the briefest of moments, Katsuki is alone in there. It feels bigger, somehow, without Michael’s presence behind the desk, filling all the empty spaces of the room. But then Michael trails Katsuki into the room and steps around him to take his normal seat behind his desk and Katsuki finds that it doesn’t have the same imposing feeling that he’s used to. For the first time ever, Michael looks small sitting in his chair— he looks reachable . It strikes Katsuki all at once that Michael has always felt like he was more powerful— not in actual strength but in status— and that had always made him feel as if he were elevated above everyone else in the room. And that’s fair, Katsuki supposes, since Michael is their boss.

But right now he just looks human.

He doesn’t look like he’s on a pedestal, doesn’t look like he’s perfectly collected, doesn’t look like he has an outline of this conversation in his mind with a script that he’s expecting Katsuki to follow and prepared to respond to. Right now he just looks like he could be anyone sitting in that seat and the sight of it is so jarring that Katsuki comes to a halting stop in the middle of the floor, halfway to the chairs that occupy the space in front of Michael’s desk.

Generally, whenever Katsuki or Izuku— or Kotaro— are in this room, they don’t take a seat in the chairs despite their availability. There’s usually too much tension in the room to be able to sit and feel even a little relaxed. And right now Michael appears to be feeling some sort of tension in the room but Katsuki just… doesn’t.

He sits in one of the chairs.

If Michael is going to throw him off, the least Katsuki can do is return the favor. And judging by the way Michael’s eyebrows shoot up, he succeeds. 

“So,” Katsuki prompts after the silence stretches too long.

He has never had to prompt Michael for anything. Michael is usually getting right to the point before the door has even finished closing behind Katsuki. Sometimes, if the topic they have to discuss is quick enough, Katsuki doesn’t even bother closing the door at all. So it’s incredibly strange and bordering on uncomfortable that he has to prompt Michael to say anything.

Michael, at least, meets his gaze and there’s a steadiness to his gaze that Katsuki recognizes. It makes him feel marginally better. “I wanted to talk to you about discriminating taste .”

Katsuki groans. “I already told you, I’m not doing anymore episodes.”

“No, no,” Michael shakes his head. “I’m not asking you to. And I promise that I’m not going to ask you to. I understand that the deal on your end has already been fulfilled and you are being incredibly gracious to me by agreeing to an additional episode so that Midoriya may complete his six episodes.”

“I’m not sure I had any option but to agree.” Katsuki mutters, but he doesn’t sound as bitter as he thinks he probably should.

In truth— the kind of truth that Katsuki will bury in the marrow of his bones and take to his grave— he hasn’t minded the damn show. It’s almost been fun. Almost . Because, yeah, he and Izuku spend a lot of time together and yeah , Katsuki cooks for the damn nerd all the time. But usually when he’s cooking, Izuku is in the shower, or finishing paperwork, or doing something that otherwise occupies his attention. And in the rare occasion that Izuku is the one cooking, it’s because Katsuki is doing something that makes it so he can’t be the one cooking. So, sure, they cook and eat together almost every day. But before this show, they never really spent time cooking together , never really gave each other their undivided attention. And— okay, it was fucking nice. He could admit it in his own head.

There was a reason he and Izuku spent everyday together now, a reason they had grown as close as they did. There was a reason he insisted that Izuku be involved in the show. And it was because, above all else, they just enjoyed each other’s company. And as stupid and simple as that sounded, that was the bare bones of what connected them. They knew each other better than anyone else and they both liked what they saw when they looked at each other and so why wouldn’t they want to spend time together?

Katsuki determinedly ignores the voice of Eijiro and Denki in the back of his mind telling him to look deeper at that thought.

First of all: he’s not going to. Second of all: he’s sure as hell not going to do it sitting in Michael’s office.

“I actually wanted to thank you.” Michael says suddenly and it’s so uncharacteristic how unsettled he looks that Katsuki almost shoots out of his seat. “For being such a good sport and for going along with it.”

Katsuki stares at Michael, dumbfounded and unsure how to respond.

“I know it wasn’t something you wanted to do and I know it really pushed you out of your comfort zone.” Michael continues, either unaware or ignoring the way Katsuki must be staring at him with his jaw on the floor. It feels like his jaw is on the floor. “And I know it had some unexpected results, but—”

“What the hell are you—?”

“I told you,” Michael says as evenly as ever. “I’m thanking you. You shared a lot about yourself with all of us. Not just your home and your recipes, but you, yourself. You’re thoughts and feelings—“

“Wait.” Katsuki narrows his eyes. “You know, don’t you?”

Because it sure as hell sounds like Michael knows. It sure as hell sounds like Michael is implying the unexpected results to be something other than the sheer number of people that started tuning in and caring about this show. Because that was the desired results, even if the numbers exceeded everyone’s wildest dreams. And feelings? Like hell Katsuki had ever publicly shared a single one of those, no matter what anyone said about it. 

“Know—?”

But there’s something in Michael’s gaze that confirms Katsuki’s suspicions. “You bastard!” He shoots up out of his chair finally. “You know about the goddamn rumor that Izuku and I are secretly dating? You know and you haven’t done a goddamn thing about it?”

Michael, to his credit, keeps a mostly impassive face. “How do you know I haven’t done anything about it?”

“Because,” Katsuki huffs, crossing his arms. “Every time this shit has happened in the past, I’ve gotten some email about it. I’ve been asked to comment on it, I’ve been asked to ignore it, I’ve been told what PR is going to do about it… but the point is that I’m always told . And I may not read my emails, but I at least check them and I know for goddamn sure that I haven’t gotten an email about this.”

It’s silent for a few long, tense seconds before Michael inclines his head in acknowledgement of Katsuki’s statement. “I’ve known the entire time, yes.” He says and then his gaze finally drops to the desk in front of him. It’s such an admission of power, an offering of guilt, that Katsuki almost wants to not be mad. “And I ordered Kotaro to do nothing about it. So please, if you are upset, as you have every right to be, do not hold it against Kotaro. He has only done what I have asked him to do and he’s been incredibly displeased about it along the way.”

Katsuki scoffs. “Sure.”

“I’m serious.” Michael raises his gaze again. “He has come in here on more than one occasion to yell at me and plead with me in regards to the instructions he has been given. He has told me in no uncertain terms that I am making a poor decision and that I am being cruel to both you and Midoriya.”

For a moment, their gazes catch and Katsuki scrutinizes Michael’s expression. As much as he wants to be distrustful, as much as he wants to yell and scream, to blow a hole in one of these chairs or maybe in Michael’s stupidly expensive desk, he doesn’t. 

“You expect me to believe that Kotaro , the guy who couldn’t even look me in the eyes for years , came here and yelled at the president of the agency?” 

That earns a surprising smile from Michael. “It seems that you’ve rubbed off on him.  He seems to be picking up a few bad habits.”

Even Katsuki couldn’t deny the obvious change in Kotaro. From the way he could barely even handle being in the same room as pro heroes, let alone himself or Izuku, to the way he now was able to become a natural extension of their dynamic and a part of their conversations. Katsuki finally had an idea of what Kotaro’s sense of humor was like, what kind of things he liked or didn’t like. And while he hadn’t ever been sitting there wondering about that information or wishing he had it, he can’t outright deny that it’s nice to have a bit of a friendlier relationship with him. Kotaro is a really nice guy and can be pretty damn funny when he’s giving Izuku a hard time about something. He still surprises Katsuki sometimes with his snide remarks or his insight into a situation.

So as surprising as it would have been six weeks ago, Katsuki finds that he can believe that Kotaro would stand up to Michael. 

“It’s about time he grew a backbone.” Katsuki says instead, because he can’t possibly let on to anything he’s thinking. The dynamic of this interaction has been off since the moment they walked through the door and he’d be damned before he handed Michael any ammunition on the best of days, which this definitely wasn’t. “It’ll serve him well.”

Michael assesses Katsuki quietly for a moment, that same smile on his lips. If Katsuki didn’t know better, he would say it looks fond . But he’s spent the last few years convinced that Michael was a soulless robot so he wasn’t about to believe something like that . 

“As it stands,” Michael continues, “I do owe you an apology for my choice of inaction on the rumor. And I am sorry, but I understand that his apology isn’t adequate so I will withhold an additional apology for the time being.”

“The fuck?”

There’s a strangely knowing and unnerving edge to Michael’s smile now. “After discriminating taste is absolutely complete, I will have you and Midoriya in and we will decide what you guys would like to do about the rumor—”

“No.” Katsuki replies firmly. “I will not have a conversation about that with Deku. You’ve already made me do a bunch of shit that I don’t want to do, but I will not do that. Not on your life. Not a chance in hell.”

“Fair enough,” Michael agrees surprisingly easily. “I will have you express your desired resolution of the rumor to Kotaro, then and he can be your representative on the matter. He has already made it clear that he has your best interest in mind, so I’m sure he will be happy to do this.”

“My desired resolution—”

“ But ,” Michael cuts in fluidly, a glint in his eyes, “I will not accept any answer until after the last episode is complete and you’ve had a few days to think about it. So withhold from answering me now, and I’ll let you know when I need your decision by.”

“My decision won’t change.” Katsuki remarks.

“Maybe.” Michael shrugs. “But I believe you also had no intention of enjoying the cooking show and no matter what you say, I know that you are.”

“You’re a bastard.”

“So you’ve said.” Michael is entirely unbothered.

Katsuki fights to stop himself from rolling his eyes, “Is there anything else you needed? Other than to tell me that you know about the rumor and that you’re going to apologize for that but not yet? Because if you’re done with your weirdly vague bullshit, I’ve got other plans for my day.”

Michael offers him a smile that is not comforting in the least. “Yes, I imagine that you do.” And then, before Katsuki can say anything about him implying shit again— something he seems to be doing more and more lately— Michael continues. “But no, that is all I needed from you. Thank you for your time.”

Katsuki leaves before he has a chance to find out anything else that will irritate him or before Michael has a chance to change his mind. 

@Nishi1jaeger 4 hours ago

Still thinking about @/smallmight1 and his random appearance to do nothing other than hate on bkdk 

     ↳@Scarystarsworld 4 hours ago

     @Nishi1jaeger Like I know there are people who don’t ship it but there’s something off about him

     🗯12 ↻ 2 ♡76 

          ↳@Katsuki_Is_Our_King 4 hours ago

          @Nishi1jaeger @Scarystarsworld Did you notice that he types the same way as Deku? Lots of exclamation points and similar phrasing 

          🗯71  ↻ 183 ♡457

               ↳@SyndellWins 4 hours ago 

             @Nishi1jaeger @Scarystarsworld @Katsuki_Is_Our_King WAIT— 

             🗯0  ↻ 0 ♡15

             ↳@Ashiah 4 hours ago

             @Nishi1jaeger @Scarystarsworld @Katsuki_Is_Our_King Holy shit it’s true! INCH RESTING 

             🗯0  ↻ 1 ♡63

             ↳@KzngKat 3 hours ago

             @Nishi1jaeger @Scarystarsworld @Katsuki_Is_Our_King Why would Deku have some nobody account just to come try and stop the rumors? Every other time they’ve publicly addressed the rumor 

             🗯0  ↻ 0 ♡4

             ↳@Marest 3 hours ago

             @Nishi1jaeger @Scarystarsworld @Katsuki_Is_Our_King I’m having IDEAS

             🗯0  ↻ 0 ♡13

No matter how bad things get, Kotaro doesn’t avoid people. 

At least, that’s what he tells himself when he sequesters himself in his office, head down, door only cracked the smallest amount to imply that he’s accessible if absolutely necessary but under all other circumstances, do not disturb, And he tells himself that it’s because he has a lot of work to get done and can’t afford to be distracted, which isn’t strictly a lie. He still has what feels like about half a million interview requests to respond to, along with several inquiries on Bakugo actually creating a cooking book. He has to send Bakugo his customary reminder email about sending over the recipe he’d like to cook so Kotaro can do the shopping, even though he knows that he will have to send a final email in another day requesting the recipe one final time. And from there, he’ll still have to wait a few hours.

So he really does have a reason for being in his office, for being closed off and almost unavailable. And that reason has nothing to do with the fact that he can’t look Naoki in the eye now that he knows not only that Midoriya and Bakugo have picked up on his feelings, but that said feelings are apparently obvious. 

And, okay, his feelings for Naoki aren’t that strong— he’s not about to get down on one knee and pop the question or hand over a key to his house. But he wouldn’t mind getting to know them more, wouldn’t mind finding out the more nuanced aspects of their personality. And he can’t deny that his mind keeps straying back to them, to the way they had fit in with Bakugo and Midoriya like it was nothing. He can’t stop thinking of the way they call him hero as an affectionate pet name— and every time he thinks of that, butterflies make him feel sick.

So, fine, he’s maybe avoiding Naoki a little bit. But the side effect of avoiding them is that he’s actually getting his work done, so he hides behind his thinly veiled excuses and pretends there’s more dignity to what he’s doing than there actually is. 

Of course, this is when he realizes that he’s just been sitting, staring idly at his computer screen with his hands sitting limply on the keys and getting absolutely no work done, which entirely negates his previous justification of this behavior. Of course, Naoki deserves better. They deserve someone who has even a tenth of their confidence and exuberance. And that certainly isn’t Kotaro. Or it hadn’t been, anyway. But even he can’t deny that he sees some changes in himself since he started spending consistent time with Bakugo and Midoriya. 

The old Kotaro would never, not even under threat of death, have marched into Michael’s office and told him off. Michael could have committed the worst atrocities known to man in front of him before and he would’ve pleaded temporary blindness before he would’ve said anything about it. But now— well, he hadn’t really thought twice about telling Michael off. He hadn’t been able to think of anything other than Bakugo and Midoriya— not in their element, exactly, but in moments of peace. And when he’d thought of that, he’d felt nothing but a surge of fierce protectiveness.

Past Kotaro would never believe him if he ever found a way to tell him. 

Kotaro sighs and removes his hands from his keyboard, leaning back in his chair and dropping his head back against it. A lot has changed in such a short period of time and he’s still trying to process all of it. He’s grateful for it, all the way to his very core, but he still hasn’t been able to convince himself completely that it’s all real.

A knock sounds on his door and Kotaro doesn’t even lift his head as he answers, “Come in,” expecting Hiroto or Hanaku. 

Technically, as members of Bakugo’s PR team, they were perfectly capable of responding to all the interview requests as well. And Kotaro had passed some of them along to them. But if he gave them any more, then he wouldn’t have anything to do, which would defeat the entire purpose.

The door pushes open— he really needs to look into getting that one hinged addressed so it stops making such a godawful noise—  but no other sound follows up. There’s no immediate complaining that he would expect of Hiroto or Hanaku, there’s no footsteps of someone approaching his desk. There’s just the godawful squeak and then… silence. 

Right up until the point he hears Midoriya’s voice. “Are you alright, Kotaro?”

“Midoriya!” Kotaro shoots up in his seat, practically knocking over his very cold cup of coffee in the process. 

Midoriya is standing in the doorway in a dressed down version of his hero suit, the one he wore when he was on patrol for the day. He had a hint of a smile on his lips as he met Kotaro’s gaze. “Am I interrupting something?”

Kotaro pauses for just a moment before the words tumble out of his mouth before he can stop them. “Just me wallowing in my misery.”

“Ah,” Midoriya outright smiles now as he finally steps into the room, his boots loud against the floor as he approaches the desk. “Well, I understand the importance of that. So if you need me to come back later, I can.”

Kotaro scrubs a hand across his face again. “I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean to say that.”

But Midoriya is nothing if not unfailingly polite, even when he’s with people that he has more than just a baseline working relationship with. He waves his hand dismissively, like it’s the easiest thing in the world. “It’s really alright. If you need me to come back later, I really am more than happy to. Whether you’re wallowing in misery or doing something else, if I’m interrupting, I will leave!”

“No, no, it’s perfectly fine.” Kotaro reassures him as he slumps back in his chair, offering a half smile to Midoriya. He's pleased to see Midoriya take a seat in one of the armchairs in his room, leaning back as well so he’s comfortable. “What’s up?”

There would have been a time just a few weeks ago that Kotaro would never have been able to relax when in the presence of Midoriya. Sitting in his chair like he is now, it wouldn’t matter how tired he was, he never would’ve been able to let his muscles relax even the slightest bit. He would’ve sat stock-straight in the chair for the entire conversation, no matter what. But now he lets his spine curve, lets his muscles relax, tries to melt back into his chair behind him as he drops his hands onto the arm rests. And while it should probably feel unprofessional to be sitting so casually, it doesn’t. Especially when Midoriya mirrors the posture in his own way.

Kotaro gets the unexpected joy of watching Midoriya sit back in the chair across from him, letting his shoulders relax a little. There’s still a faint smile on the edges of his lips and Kotaro spares a moment to wonder if the smile is just his face’s natural resting position.

“I wanted to talk to you.” Midoriya says as if that wasn’t entirely obvious by him stopping by Kotaro’s office and then making himself at home there. Still, Kotaro doesn’t point any of that out, choosing instead to stay quiet and give Midoriya the space he needs to bring up whatever topic he’s thinking about. “About the last episode of the show.”

Kotaro can feel his eyebrows rise in surprise. ‘Was there something wrong with it?”

“No, no! Of course not!” Midoriya leans forward in his haste to correct Kotaro’s assumption and places a hand on the edge of his desk. “It’s been a great experience and I’m really impressed that you took my offhand comment about Kacchan’s cooking and turned it into something so incredible.”

Kotaro opens his mouth to respond but the words lodge in the back of his throat. He clears it and glances away. “Well, I’m not the one who does anything. It’s all you guys. I just facilitated the opportunity.”

“Which is impressive in its own right.” Midoriya says gently, leaning a little to the side to catch Kotaro’s eye. “But there’s a reason you’re the fan favorite, Kotaro. It’s okay to be proud of the thing you created.”

And the thing is that Kotaro is proud of it. He’s proud of how successful the show has become, proud of the legacy this will leave for his career. He’s proud of more than that, though— the smaller, more nuanced things. He’s proud of Bakugo for letting go and letting people besides Midoriya in. He’s proud of Midoriya for allowing any amount of the spotlight to be put on himself. And he’s proud of himself, too. For gaining courage, for standing up for what he believes in, for giving himself and those around him a chance. He’s proud of himself for learning from his mistakes and giving himself compassion and room to grow. 

He remembers the day he was tasked with fixing Bakugo’s reputation. He remembers thinking it was impossible and being on the verge of giving up without even trying. The old him hadn’t had the kind of fight that he had now— except, that wasn’t exactly true. Because the old him had to have had at least a little fight for him to end up where he was at. The difference is that it took everything he had to convince himself to fight for it back then. Now if he were tasked with something that daunting, he wouldn’t even consider giving up.

“I’m just glad that Bakugo hasn’t murdered me yet.” He says in deflection of the complement Midoriya was steadfastly trying to present to him.

Midoriya accepts the deflection with grace, laughing as he settles back into his chair and lets his hand slip off the edge of the desk. “I would say that Kacchan’s all bark and no bite but that’s not true.” Midoriya shakes his head with a little roll of his eyes, like he knows that Kotaro will understand, that Kotaro knows Bakugo enough to be on the same level of fond exasperation that Midoriya is. The concept nearly knocks him out of his chair. “But he would never kill someone for doing their job, no matter how much their job inconveniences him. He understands when people are just following their orders.”

“Yes,” Kotaro agrees, still trying to wrap his brain around this entire moment. “He has been much more understanding that I initially gave him credit for.”

Something about that statement— as innocuous as Kotaro had meant it to be— seems to remind Midoriya of whatever he came in here for. He grows quiet suddenly, tipping his head down. It’s not enough that Kotaro can’t see his expression, but it is enough that their gazes don’t meet. Kotaro stares at Midoriya for a moment, trying to gauge some hint of his thoughts from what he could see.

It’s a well established thing that Midoriya is known for wearing his emotions on his sleeves, always exuberant and bubbling over. Bakugo likes to tease him for being a crybaby in their youth and while he certainly wouldn’t be labeled a crybaby now, there had still been times when Midoriya had been caught in tears.  There was a particularly notable experience where a woman had come to thank Midoriya after he had saved her child from an accident. He had burst into tears right in the street as the woman had hugged him and showed him pictures of her son as he was healing. And then when she had showed him pictures of her son wearing his merch, well, the tears had taken a long time to stop.

This was something different though, something deeper. Kotaro thinks about the offhand comments that Bakugo has made regarding being able to read Midoriya. Bakugo has always insisted that it was easy, that every feeling Midoriya had was written into the lines of his expressions somewhere. And Kotaro didn’t doubt that it was true but he figured that someone would need a different cipher to be able to read these emotions. It was different than reading the ones that he had public facing, the ones that were safe to express to anyone who looked— and there were always a lot of people looking. He figured that even Midoriya, as kind and lovely as he was to everyone, had things that he liked to keep to himself.

And it would make sense that Bakugo would be able to read even the deeper thoughts, the things that Midoriya hides from the world to protect them. As Kotaro looks at Midoriya and tries to read his expression, he thinks that’s exactly what it is— that Midoriya keeps things to himself to protect them. Someone as genuinely kind and caring as Midoriya no doubt has things that are fragile and tender, things that should be shielded from all the prying eyes and opinions that are always directed towards him. Being the number one hero meant that everything he did was scrutinized. But if that’s the case and he locks these things away in a sense of self-preservation, it also makes sense to Kotaro that Bakugo would be able to see and understand them with little to no effort.

The cipher that would be necessary to dissect those things would be one that had been gained slowly and painstakingly, through a lot of effort, observation, and dedication. The kind that came from growing up together, from fighting against and with each other. The kind that came from going back to the same person over and over again, like two poles drawn to each other. There has been talk— both on the show and off— of the memories Bakugo and Midoriya share from their childhood and Kotaro thinks that there was a lot of pain in the pain staking process, but that it paid off in the end. 

Still, while he hasn’t dedicated nearly that level of time or effort, he feels that he can see glimpses of what might be weighing on Midoriya in the shadows of his eyes.

“When you first suggested this show,” Midoriya begins after a moment, “I was really excited because I wanted the world to see Kacchan the way I do.”

“You’ve always been able to see more in him than anyone else.” Kotaro agrees. He hopes his answer is neutral enough to not deter whatever it is that Midoriya is trying to get to. 

There’s a ghost of a smile at the edges of Midoriya’s lips but it’s different than the one that Kotaro suspects to be his resting expression. It’s softer, but sadder, too. “Nobody knows firsthand how terrible Kacchan can be better than I do.” Midoriya loses the soft edge to his smile so that it’s only sad now. “I know it’s been hinted at before, but we had more than our fair share of rough patches over the years. Mostly we don’t talk about them because we’ve forgiven things and moved on— but that’s exactly why it was so important to me to have people understand him the way I do!”

“Because….” Kotaro tries to piece together the point that’s being made here, but the dots aren’t connecting. “He was terrible to you first?”

“No,” Midoriya shakes his head, dislodging his haphazard green curls. “Because he’s not terrible anymore. And even when he was behaving terribly, he was still kind and thoughtful deep down. But he’s grown so much and he’s worked so hard to forgive himself and I was hoping that this would help.”

The dots connect for Kotaro suddenly and all at once, the unspoken truth of what Midoriya has been doing all this time crashing down on him. “Is it really the public that you want to see him the way you do?” He asks quietly. “Or are you hoping to make Bakugo see himself the way you do?”

It’s silent for a long moment and Midoriya has gone remarkably still in the chair across his desk. Kotaro lets the silence sit for a few seconds, and then a few more, and he’s just about to break it to apologize and take back what he said when Midoriya mumbles into his lap. 

“I think he’s still trying to earn my forgiveness, even though he’s always had it.” He says. “And I was hoping that maybe this would help him realize it. No matter what we went through, there’s nobody who is more important to me.” 

Kotaro thinks again of the rumor, to all the evidence he has seen fans present over the years. He thinks of all the times he’s heard Midoriya say something like that— that Bakugo is important to him, that he’s a good person, that he was lucky to have Bakugo at his side. Now that he views things differently than he did before, he starts to wonder not if something is there, but how long it has been there. 

“If it’s any consolation,” Kotaro says when he realizes that there’s no good answer to that statement, that declaration, that confession. “I think he knows that.” 

“Yeah?” Kotaro couldn’t put any name other than hope to the expression on Midoriya’s face. 

“Yeah.” He confirms with a decisive nod. “And I also think that there’s nobody more important to him than you.” 

“Is it wrong of me to hope that’s true?” Midoriya whispers into the space between them. “Of course I want him to have lots of friends and to be surrounded by people who love and appreciate him, but…”

“I don’t think that’s wrong at all.” Kotaro answers immediately and with certainty. “There’s nothing wrong with wanting to be important to someone who’s important to you.”

Midoriya sits with this for a few moments, clearly mulling it over. Kotaro feels as if he can see the gears turning, see the different threads of thoughts connecting. It’s incredible to realize that he knows this much about Midoriya now, incredible that he doesn’t feel uncomfortable in this silence but instead is content to wait it out without comment. 

“So, you remember how at the end of last week we talked and uh, I told you that you should think about it ?“ Midoriya asks timidly and the difference is suddenly very striking.

“Yes.” Kotaro answers and he’s so thrown off by the change from the relaxed and casual version of Midoriya to the shy and almost afraid version that he forgets for a moment about his panic over Naoki and the fact that he’s definitely-not avoiding them.

“And do you remember how you told me that I should think about it , too?” Midoriya finished after a moment, his hands clasped loosely in his lap. His hands aren’t moving where they’re resting, but he’s still staring at them like they’re the most fascinating thing he’s ever seen.

Kotaro feels the panic he would’ve expected from the last question surge forth but this time it’s a panic that he’s somehow offended Midoriya or crossed a line in some way.

“Midoriya, I— I didn’t mean—”

“I just—” Midoriya looks up and meets his eyes suddenly and anything Kotaro was about to say dies on his tongue. “I just wanted to say that I have been. Thinking about it, I mean.” Midoriya pauses for a second and then adds, “Thinking about it seems to be the only thing I ever do anymore.”

Kotaro takes in a breath and lets it out slowly, trying to force the panic back down. “Do you want to… talk about it?”

Midoriya, at least, looks surprised by the offer. Kotaro isn’t sure what he came in here expecting but clearly it wasn’t this. Still, he doesn’t rebuff the offer, doesn’t get mad. He simply raises his shoulders in a shrug and mumbles, “Is that allowed? You’re his PR rep, I feel like that would just make your job harder.”

Kotaro tries to meet Midoriya’s gaze but Midoriya remains steadfastly staring down at his lap. “If we’re being honest right now, I don’t really care about how hard it makes my job. If you need to talk, I really am happy to listen. And I won’t speak a word of it to anyone, I promise.”

Midoriya smiles in response to that, something small and private that makes Kotaro feel lucky to be able to see it. “You know you’re more than just his PR rep, right?” He says after a quiet moment. “You’re our friend.”

And then it’s Kotaro’s turn to smile a small, private smile. “I would feel honored to call you both my friend.”

There’s a moment where Kotaro’s offer hangs in the air between them and it’s clear that Midoriya is trying to decide whether to accept it or not. Right as he opens his mouth to give Kotaro any form of an answer, the phone on his desk rings. It shatters the quiet environment they had been wrapping themselves in so thoroughly that Kotaro actually jumps in his chair as he turns to look at the phone and then redirects his wide eyes to Midoriya. Midoriya nods, gesturing to the phone, indicating that Kotaro should answer it and whatever he was about to say can wait until the phone call is over.

Earlier in the day, Kotaro would’ve been thrilled to have the phone ringing, to have an excuse to not leave the office or something else he could busy himself with to make his thin excuse marginally less flimsy. But now he feels that he’s on the precipice of something, that this important moment may not survive if he picks up the phone. 

“Midoriya—”

“It’s okay,” Midoriya says, glancing at the phone again. “You have to do your job, right?”

Kotaro recognizes the loss for what it is, and he sighs to himself as he reaches for the phone, watching as Midoriya stands up and heads towards the door. His back looks stiffer than it did when he’d walked in, Kotaro notes idly.

“Hello, this is Kotaro.”

“Kotaro, perfect! I was calling to speak to you on the behalf of Rordon Gamsay...”

Michael is sitting in his office chair like always, but every time he ends up in these conversations, he’s finding that he feels less and less in control than he had in the past. 

“You’re certain that’s what they’ve asked?” He asks Kotaro, despite the fact that there was no reason to doubt it, no reason to assume that there had been any sort of miscommunication.

“Absolutely.” Kotaro answers evenly. “And even if I had convinced myself that I’d somehow worded it wrong, they sent me an email with all the details. So I’m very, very positive. Rordon Gamsay wants to have both Bakugo and Midoriya guest star on his show.”

Michael sits with this information for a few seconds. Rordon Gamsay was the biggest chef in the country and responsible for something like seven different well-loved cooking shows. It would be an unbelievable opportunity to capitalize on for discriminating taste …

But Michael had already acknowledged that Bakugo had met his end of the deal as far as the show was concerned and that he had no intent to ask for more than what he’d already been given. It was tempting— unbelievably tempting— but Michael truly intended to learn something himself from this entire endeavor. He had pushed and pushed and pushed and then he had taken more than he had been entitled to. He had ignored the advice of people more qualified than him and ignored clear signs of distress when they had been presented to him. 

And while he had been suspicious that there was something between Bakugo and Midoriya, while he had wanted their happiness with each other as the true motive to what he was doing, he was accepting that it wasn’t his place and that he needed to back off. 

So, he replies in a way that’s so unexpected that it has Kotaro’s eyebrows nearly leaping off of his head. “Present the option to them, but respect what their decision is.”

“You want me to—”

“Let them choose, yes.” Michael says decisively. “After this week’s episode of discriminating taste , their obligation is complete. If they wish to continue, I will certainly not argue. But I think I have done enough of imposing my will into this situation, so I will defer to their decision and I will not attempt to sway them.”

Kotaro stares at Michael over his desk, his lips slowly curling into a smile. If Michael didn’t know better, he would think there was something akin to pride in Kotaro’s expression. “Alright, I’ll ask them and make it clear that it’s entirely their decision.”

“But,” Michael says and Kotaro rolls his eyes, “Wait until after this week’s episode.”

“You think the sadness of being done will sway their decision?” Kotaro challenges.

“No,” Michael answers, and it’s the truth. He hadn’t thought about that when asking Kotaro to wait until after the episode and he wasn’t sure it would honestly make a huge difference. Either they were going to miss the show and they wouldn’t already be aware of that, or they wouldn’t miss the show and therefore wouldn’t be inclined to continue. “I just suspect they will have different answers immediately and I don’t want the disagreement to affect this final episode.”

“So you think Midoriya will say yes…”

“And Bakugo will give some variation of hell no . Precisely.” Michael says and he’s pleased to find that he and Kotaro both smile in amusement at it.

“You know,” Kotaro looks fond as he speaks. “I really think this show ended up being a good thing, despite all the issues that came with it.”

“Yes,” Michael agrees. “I think it had quite the impact.”

“On all of us.” Kotaro emphasizes with a pointed look, an eyebrow raised as if to indicate something crucial.

Michael inclines his head in understanding. “On all of us.”

@coffee_being 3 hours ago

Actually I’ve decided that I have to get to the bottom of this. @smallmight1 do you know Deku or Dynamight personally?

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    ↳@ImaginaryFriend_006 2 hours ago 

     @coffee_being OMG not you actually TAGGING him

     🗯1  ↻ 0 ♡9

         ↳ @coffee_being 2 hours ago

         @ImaginaryFriend_006 I WANT ANSWERS

         🗯0  ↻ 0 ♡12

    ↳@smallmight1 1 hour ago 

     @coffee_being what would make you think that?? I’m just pointing out things based off of the information provided!!

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         ↳@Littlegiggles315 46 min ago

         @smallmight1 @coffee_being that’s not an answer to the question

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            ↳@smallmight1 43 min ago

             @coffee_being @Littlegiggles315 well, I mean, I’ve met them before! But they’re pro heroes, lots of people have met them!!

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                 ↳@coffee_being 40 min ago

                 @smallmight1 @Littlegiggles315 I want you to tell me directly that you’ve MET Deku and that you AREN’T Deku

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@Mythical ferret 20 min ago

All I’m saying is that @/smallmight1’s silence in response to that tweet is DEAFENING

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    ↳@TallLeprechaun 19 min ago

     @Mythical ferret RIGHT? I had never considered it before but it makes SO MUCH SENSE

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@Bellz_the_lurker 15 min ago

Okay twt detectives, start digging into @smallmight1. Let’s see what ya’ll can find!

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He honestly couldn’t say what it was that had kept him awake. He’d gone to bed like always, curled up on the side of the bed that had been his since they were children— the side furthest from the door. When they were younger, it was because he was scared. Scared of someone breaking in, scared of the wind, scared of his shadow— scared of a lot of things, to put it lightly. And Katsuki— well, Katsuki had never been scared of anything. If someone had been stupid enough to try and break in, they’d barely be through the door before their own terrified expression would be illuminated from the sparks of the explosion brewing in Katsuki’s palm. 

It wasn’t something they had ever talked about, wasn’t some big discussion where they had each laid out and accepted their roles in this imagined situation. It had just sort of happened naturally, the way most things had between them. Izuku had come back from brushing his teeth one night to find Katsuki already curled up and on the brink of sleep on the half of the bed that was nearest the door. He’d carefully crawled over his best friend, smiling fondly at the half-hearted grumble of protest Katsuki had given when Izuku had disrupted his near slumber and that had been that. For the rest of their lives, it had stayed exactly like that.

So Izuku really had tried to go to sleep. 

At first, he blamed the light of the full moon that streamed through the half-shut shades for keeping him awake. The light slanted right across his face, illuminated the designs on the inside of his eyelids. He had shifted, turned, placed the pillow over his head— done everything he could to get the light out of his eyes. And it had worked, he’d been able to completely block the light out. But even when he had, sleep hadn’t come. Next, he had tried to blame his mind. It had been a few days since his conversation with Kotaro and he still hadn’t been able to stop thinking about it, to stop wondering how much he would have said if that phone hadn’t rung. But he had been replaying that conversation every minute of every day since it had happened, and he’d been able to sleep every other night. So it quickly became apparent that he couldn’t blame that. And the truth was that it wasn’t his eyes that were bothering him, it wasn’t his brain, it was his stomach. Or, more precisely, his gut.

Every time he shifted, something inside of him refused to settle, Something that was loose and gnawing away at his insides, something that rattled around when he changed positions and then never fell back into whatever place it had come from. And if Izuku opened his eyes to look at the empty pillow next to him, well, then the thing inside of him seemed to double, triple in size. 

Which is precisely why he was leaping out of bed, practically tangling his feet in the covers and falling flat on his face the moment he heard the front door opening. He was safe in Katsuki’s apartment— in the one place he spent the majority of his time and knew like the back of his hand— and yet his heart was racing in his throat as he dashed down the short hallway that connected Katsuki’s bedroom to the main living area of the flat. He could feel each beat of his heart in every fingertip as he slid to a halt on the far side of the couch, watching with eyes that have long since adjusted to the darkness as Katsuki stumbled into the apartment.

It took less than the length of one breath for Izuku to realize that his bad gut feeling had been absolutely right. Before Katsuki even has a chance to realize he’s there, to realize that he’s probably making more noise than he intended to, Izuku is leaping over the couch and flying to Katsuki’s side to catch him before he stumbles enough that he actually falls over.

“Kacchan!” Izuku slides up to his side quickly and easily, without any sort of hesitation. He ducks just enough to slip underneath Katsuki’s side so that when Katsuki starts to fall to his left, his doing nothing more than collapsing against Izuku who is more than prepared to handle the weight,

“The hell are you doing up?” Katsuki grumbles as he allows himself a moment to stay leaning against Izuku’s side, shuffling his feet so they’re under him a little better.

Izuku’s hands find purchase on Katsuki immediately, ready to help him stand or lower him to the ground or— or do whatever it is Katsuki eventually needs him to do. His hands find Katsuki easily, one splaying out across his back, firm between his shoulder blades while the other reaches across his chest to grip his shoulder. From his position under Katsuki, this gives him the most leverage and he’s confident he’d be able to provide whatever kind of support Katsuki needs, but he doesn’t do anything yet, instead just standing still as he waits for some indication from Katsuki.

“Couldn’t sleep.” Izuku answers easily, the little bit of a shrug that he manages to do dislodging Katsuki just a little bit.

It’s still for a second and it allows Izuku to assess the situation. Katsuki’s breathing is a little labored, but nothing to be concerned about. Sometimes he breathes like this when he’s overused his quirk, the amount of stress wielding such strong emotions has on his shoulders, back, and chest can sometimes cause him to breathe a little rougher for a day or two until the soreness dies down. Sometimes he breathes like this if he ended up in a fight that was filled with dust— weather a quirk, debris, or just the elements of nature around the fight didn’t matter, but breathing in that kind of dust often left Katsuki’s breathing a little uneven for a few hours after a fight. Sometimes, Katsuki breathes like this—

“Stop that shit.” Katsuki grumbles as he braces a hand against Izuku’s shoulder and pushes himself upright. “You’re thinking so goddamn loud, you’re going to wake the neighbors.”

Izuku huffs out a quiet laugh as he allows Katsuki to pull away from him slightly, the hand on his back remaining firm the entire time. “That’s not possible.” He says, and then adds. “Besides, you’re the only one who can ever tell when I’m really thinking hard about something.”

Katsuki scoffs and reaches up to brace one of his shoulders while he stretches an arm overhead. “Then nobody else has ever paid any attention to you.” He says easily. “It’s written all over your face. I bet I could even tell you exactly what you were thinking about.”

“You could not!” Izuku defends immediately, dropping his hand so he can take a few steps back and get a clearer look at Katsuki. 

“It was my breathing, right?” Katsuki challenges, his eyes even darker since there aren’t any lights on in the apartment and they’re on a high enough floor that the street lights from down below barely reach through their tall windows. For the moment, it seems that the moon has chosen to put all of its energy into shining through the bedroom window and the bedroom window only.

“I—” Izuku starts, somewhere between startled and a little bit delighted. “It’s just—”

“Tch.” Katsuki rolls his eyes but there’s a triumphant grin to the edges of his lips as he continues. “It’s not my quirk, or dust, or whatever other stupid ass idea you came up with.”

“How did you—”

“You aren’t subtle, nerd.” Katsuki lets his arm fall back to his side but doesn’t make an attempt to step away from Izuku in the least. He turns to be facing Izuku a little more directly, instead. “You ask me at least a million questions every time something is even a little bit off. It doesn’t take the most observant person in the world to piece together the common threads.”

Izuku deflates in his spot. “I just get worried.”

Katsuki huffs out a half amused laugh before abruptly cutting it off in what sounds like a wheeze of pain. “I’ve noticed.”

Immediately Izuku’s hands find Katsuki’s torso, not hesitating in the least when pressing against him. There doesn’t feel like anything structurally wrong, no damp feeling of blood soaking his shirt, no odd lumps or bumps of broken bones. But that doesn’t stop Katsuki from wincing as Izuku ghosts his hands across Katsuki’s ribs, his fingers pausing immediately, each one splayed out on a different rib on Katsuki’s right side. 

Katsuki isn’t meeting his eyes. “I’ve already been to recovery girl, before you freak out.”

“I’m not going to freak out.” Izuku replies, hoping to convince both of them with his statement. “I just want to know what happened.”

Historically, freaking out was his default when something happened to Katsuki. Especially something preventable. Especially something preventable by him . Izuku had never taken well to the things he cared about being threatened and it had often been a sore topic of conversation between them— Katsuki was correct in his assertion that he could protect himself but that didn’t make Izuku like it any more. 

“Just a few broken ribs.” Katsuki shrugs but the motion appears to be painful as well. “Recovery Girl fixed ‘em up but she tells me that I’ll still be sore for a day or two.”

“How many is a few , Kacchan?” Izuku presses, his hand starting to rub in idle circles. It’s unconscious, but Izuku would know that he intended it to be comforting to both of them if he were doing it on purpose. 

“Doesn’t matter.” Katsuki answers. “Besides, the answer now is technically none since they’re all fixed up.” Katsuki finally shakes himself free of Izuku and takes a few steps into the flat. “Now let’s get the hell to bed, okay? You shouldn’t even be awake right now.”

But Izuku makes no move to follow him. “Katsuki Bakugo.”

Katsuki sighs and stops in his spot. “It was four, okay? It was four broken ribs but like I said, I’m fucking fine because I already saw Recovery Girl. And honestly? I’d really like to get some sleep.”

“ Four? ” 

“Did you listen to anything else in that sentence?” Katsuki starts walking again, heading towards the bathroom. “If you’re going to throw a fit, do it in the morning.”

Izuku watches him go, noting the way he seems to hold his right arm stiller than usual in an attempt to not disrupt what’s been injured. Izuku had certainly had his fair share of broken bones and various injuries over the years and he knew the exact feeling that came with having them fixed up by Recovery Girl. While an x-ray would show no damage to Katsuki’s ribs, it would still hurt. The times that Izuku had gone through it, it had felt like his body remembered that he was hurt, even if he technically wasn’t anymore. It was like the ghost or memory of the pain— and it was still enough to take his breath away. 

At the very least, he could rest assured that Katsuki’s injuries were healed, so he didn’t have to worry about anything being made worse. But he would still feel uneasy at the knowledge that Katsuki was in pain. 

With Katsuki in the bathroom changing and preparing for bed, Izuku decided to head into the kitchen instead, filling a tall glass of water. On his way back towards the bedroom, he stopped at the hall closet, carefully holding the glass and attempting to pull the lid off the bottle of painkillers without spilling anything. It’s precarious for several seconds but he does manage to secure two pills and put the bottle back. He’s just closing the closet when the bathroom door opens to reveal Katsuki.

Katsuki is standing in the doorway, illuminated by the light. For a second, Izuku is caught by the way the light catches the edges of his hair and makes it glow like a halo. And then his eyes drift down and he barely has a second to register the fact that Katsuki is shirtless before his eyes land on the deep bruise that covers his side. 

As Recovery Girl aged, her strength to complete healings with her quirk got weaker. She was still able to perform big healings— like repairing four broken ribs— but often the smaller things were left to heal on their own now. Which means that Katsuki would have to sit through the week or so that it would take for that bruise to fade away. 

“Kacchan,” Izuku says quietly into the still dark hallway. 

Katsuki glances over at him briefly before rolling his eyes. “You’ve never seen a bruise before?”

Instead of responding to the comment, Izuku closes the gap between them. Katsuki half turns to acknowledge his approach and he doesn’t fight the glass of water that’s pressed into his hand. He takes a sip from it before extending his hand in a silent acceptance of the painkillers that Izuku hasn’t even formally offered yet. Izuku drops them into his waiting palm and then reaches out to trail his fingertips gently around the edges of the bruise. 

The center of the bruise is a deep purple and it fades to a yellow green as the edges blur out into Katsuki’s torso. Katsuki doesn’t flinch when Izuku touches it, but Izuku is still careful to touch it as gently as he possibly can without tickling Katsuki.

Katsuki is quiet while he takes the pain medication given to him and finishes off the glass of water. He even fills it back up to the brim so he can take it to bed. It’s only after he’s done this that he stills and meets Izuku’s eyes. He doesn’t make any move to stop Izuku’s hand on his bare torso, doesn’t make any move to push him away or shuffle them to bed. There’s something in his gaze that’s a lot more open than usual— something that Izuku feels like he’s only seen in flickers over the years bleeding into the reds and golds of him. The moment between them seems to stretch and bend suddenly until time doesn’t seem to exist anymore. Until Izuku almost isn’t sure if he exists anymore, everything in him is consumed with Katsuki and nothing else.

And, okay, fine, there had been one ore two moments where he had felt like this in the past— this all consuming feeling that was just the concept of Katsuki, the truth of Katsuki, everything about Katsuki. There had been one or two times in the past where Izuku had found himself standing on a precipice, dangling over the edge, one foot hanging off, just waiting for the cue to jump. But Katsuki had never given him that cue before, had never stared back at him with an expression that he was feeling the sort of unavoidable pull. 

Katsuki had never looked at him the way he was looking at him now.

And suddenly Izuku finds that he’s the one who can’t breathe, as if he were the one with four broken ribs pushing the air out of his lungs. His hand stills on Katsuki’s overheated skin, his palm going flat over the bruise as his fingers curled gently around Katsuki’s side. Katsuki shudders at the touch, his eyelids fluttering, but it doesn’t appear to be from pain. There’s a moment where Katsuki sways slightly, the motion bringing him closer to Izuku. 

There had been a lot of things in Izuku’s lift that had felt avoidable if people had taken responsibility sooner or put in any amount of effort. There were a lot of things that he’d gone through that he had felt like should’ve had different outcomes. But this wasn’t one of those things. Katsuki had never been one of those things. If there was such a thing as fate, Katsuki had been it for Izuku from the day that they had met all those years ago. Katsuki had been unavoidable in every way, always occupying every corner of Izuku’s mind and heart. 

Despite the time frozen around them, Izuku spares a moment to think about what Kotaro had said the other day when he had stopped by his office and almost foolishly spilled the entire contents of his heart out. He thinks about how Kotaro had said that he was confident that Izuku meant as much to Katsuki as Katsuki meant to him. He remembers selfishly hoping that was true, hoping that he occupied even a fraction as much of Katsuki’s heart. But now, with Katsuki staring back at him with his expression cracked wide open and his heart on his sleeve, Izuku is certain that it’s true. 

The question then becomes: what is he supposed to do with this knowledge? What is he supposed to do about this gravitational pull that’s begging him to fall into Katsuki, to grab hold of him and never let go?

Before Izuku has a chance to even fully process the questions, let alone begin coming up with any sort of answers for them, Katsuki takes a stumbling step backwards, the warmth of his torso disappearing from Izuku’s palm as he braces a hand on the countertop and doubles over in a coughing fit, his other hand bracing his ribs.

The moment shatters around them like it never even existed at all and Izuku knows that he will spend some time later pondering whether or not it did actually happen. Right now all that matters is Katsuki, so he jumps into action and quickly ushers Katsuki to bed, returning to the bathroom after he’s situated to turn off the light and retrieve the glass of water that had been left forgotten on the counter. 

“Do you want an ice pack for your side, Kacchan?” Izuku asks into the dark quiet of the room once Katsuki is settled in bed.

“And wake up to you bitching about how cold you got in the middle of the night from it? Pass.” Katsuki replies,  but the edges of his words are already starting to be pulled under by sleep. 

Despite everything, Izuku can’t help but smiling a little to himself. “I can sleep on the couch, Kacchan, If ice will help you feel better—”

A hand to his wrist stops the end of Izuku’s sentence. He looks down to see Katsuki’s hand loosely circling his wrist. Katsuki’s eyes aren’t open, but he tugs on Izuku’s wrist anyways. “Shut the fuck up and get in bed, would you? If you want me to sleep, you need to stop looming.”

“I’m not looming .” Izuku replies, but he complies with Katsuki’s request. He’s extremely careful as he climbs over Katsuki and settles down onto his half of the bed, pulling the covers up over him.

It’s a stark contrast from earlier in the evening when he’d been trying to sleep but simply couldn’t, with an unsettled feeling nagging at him. Now that the other half of the bed is filled with Katsuki like it’s supposed to be, now that Izuku knows that he’s ultimately fine, despite a giant bruise, that feeling that had been fighting for his attention the whole evening fades away. Suddenly Izuku finds that he, too, is exhausted. 

“I’m sorry you got hurt, Kacchan.” Izuku mumbles into the space between them.

Katsuki shifts and then a hand is landing on Izuku’s face, “Shut the hell up, Deku.”

There’s no malice to Katsuki’s words, nothing but sleepy and fond affection. Izuku reaches up to pull Katsuki’s hand off of his face and set it gingerly into the space that separates them on the bed. For a long moment, Izuku hesitates there, his hand still gripping Katsuki’s. Katsuki is clearly on the brink of sleep but not completely there yet, but he makes no comment about whatever Izuku is doing. Not wanting to overthink it too much at this time of night, Izuku allows himself a brief moment to think about the moment in the bathroom again. Feeling emboldened by it, he settles his hand a little more firmly on top of Katsuki’s, his fingers naturally slotting into the gaps between Katsuki’s.

And then he just stays like that, falling asleep holding Katsuki’s hand.

Katsuki doesn’t say anything about it when he wakes up with his hand tangled in Izuku’s. 

He doesn’t say anything about it that day, or the next day, or the day after. He doesn’t say anything about it when he gets used to the feeling of Izuku’s fingertips on his still aching ribs, He doesn’t say anything about it when Izuku’s hand brushes against his shoulder, or his lower back when passing behind him in the narrower parts of the apartment or their offices. He doesn’t say anything.

But he sure as hell thinks about it.

He thinks about it near constantly until he feels like he’s going to go insane. He thinks about it until he’s practically begging for there to be a villain so he has something to do with all the restless energy that’s burning through him. He thinks about it until he falls asleep at night and then he wakes up thinking about it again when he opens his eyes and finds that he’s oddly disappointed to find his hand empty.

He thinks about it so goddamn much that he nearly does say something about it because either speaking it will finally stop it from driving him mad or it will drive Izuku mad with him. 

“Hey, Kacchan.” Izuku is sprawled out next to him on the couch, one leg tossed over the back of the house like some sort of heathen, his ugly ass All Might blanket haphazard across his lap. For the last ten or so minutes, he’s been scrolling through his phone, intermittently typing furiously, but otherwise quiet. 

“Yeah?” Katsuki glances over like he hadn’t just been staring at Izuku, hadn’t just been looking at his fingers as they held his phone in front of his face. He glances over like he hadn’t noticed when Izuku’s attention was starting to wan from the phone, like he hadn’t turned back to the tv in that moment so that it would seem nonchalant and entirely plausible that he hadn’t been paying any attention at all.

“Do you remember at the end of last episode,” Izuku puts his phone down entirely now, plopping it on his chest and letting his hands fall onto the blanket. “That I accepted the challenge to get you to go a whole episode without swearing?”

Katsuki laughs. He can’t help it. It was such a stupid decision for Izuku to accept that challenge. “‘Course I do, idiot. Why? You trying to back out now?”

“No, of course not!” Izuku says with the kind of ferocity that suggests that he doesn’t even like the suggestion that he’d give up. “In fact, I have a plan. A foolproof plan!”

“There’s not a goddamn thing you can do, Deku.” Katsuki shuffles his shoulders sideways a little so he’s propped more against the corner of the couch and is able to better look at Izuku. “Actually, I might go out of my way to swear more this episode just to spite you.”

Izuku rolls his eyes. “I’m serious, Kacchan. I’m going to win, but there’s two ways we can do this.”

“Oh? You have that many ‘foolproof’ plans, eh?” Katsuki challenges with a grin.

Izuku reaches up to idly brush a stray curl out of his eye and Katsuki has to fight to not have his train of thought entirely derailed. Whenever he sees his idiot friends again, he’s going to wring their necks. 

He had gone from perfectly fine to having a— a moment with Izuku in the bathroom which was such a romantic cliche that it actually made him want to jump out the window. And then he found that he couldn't stop thinking about holding Izuku’s hand. It was like his mind had officially decided to stop listening to him and instead only cared about a single thing. And that thing was Izuku’s hands. Which was pretty fucking awful when Izuku used his hands for everything, when his hands were covered in these scars that made Katsuki’s chest ache every time he looked at them. It was pretty fucking awful when Izuku did literally anything— even completely mundane shit like brushing a curl out of his eyes.

“I have one foolproof plan.” Izuku clarifies, completely oblivious to Katsuki’s distracted attention and inner monologue that was actively plotting the different ways he could murder his friends and get away with it. “But we have two ways of doing it. I can spoil it now and just tell you what my plan is.”

“Or?”

“Or, you can agree to going two minutes without swearing at the start of the episode so I can put my plan into action.” 

Katsuki forces himself to meet Izuku’s gaze and not watch his hands as they fiddle with the stupid ass pop socket on the back of his phone. It’s an idle habit that Izuku has had for a long time, something he just likes to do without thinking about it. He’d never been good at sitting still.

“Like I’d ever make it that easy on you, idiot.” Katsuki replies, internally dismayed to find that meeting Izuku’s eyes doesn’t actually make things any easier. 

“Come on, Kacchan.” Izuku complains, drawing his leg down from over the back of the couch so he can kick Katsuki gently with it. “I think it’ll be more fun if you don’t make me spoil it.”

Katsura catches Izuku’s ankle easily, grabbing hold of it and gently yanking, locking Izuku’s knee out so he can’t keep kicking, He settles his foot in his own lap and places an arm over it, one hand still wrapped around his ankle to make sure that Izuku doesn’t try and steal it back when he’s not paying attention. But once he has his leg settled and looks back up, he’s surprised to find a red flush across Izuku’s cheeks. 

And, okay, he’d been forced to look at the comments on discriminating taste while they were airing so that he could answer them— and okay , fucking fine , he had gone back to look at them a little bit in his own time, too— so he knew that everyone liked to point out how red Izuku got with everything, And it wasn’t really something Katsuki had thought much of— he may read the comments but he drew the line and actually watching the episodes. He mostly assumed that it was something to do with the lighting or the digital aspect of things and wrote it off because Izuku really didn’t blush that much around him.

That was basically their thing. They were so comfortable together, so used to being around each other, that things like blushing didn’t happen. Because what the hell did Izuku have to blush about? Katsuki had picked his vomiting ass up off the floor and hauled him to bed when he was sick. He’d had to tend to Izuku’s wounds and practically wrestle him back into bed when he was trying to go back to work too early. And he’d certainly had to try more than enough of Izuku’s shitty cooking in their younger years. And they were still here, in this situation, so what the hell would there be for Izuku to be blushing about?

And even though Katsuki didn’t necessarily have an answer to that, he had proof that Izuku did, in fact, blush. Because there, staring pointedly down at his lap, was a very red-faced Izuku. He was even doing the damn hand wringing he did when he was worried or nervous about something. He glanced up intermittently to meet Katsuki’s gaze but didn’t say anything and suddenly Katsuki wondered if it was him. Was it weird that he had Izuku’s foot in his lap? But no, they did shit like this all the time. This wasn’t the first and likely wouldn’t be the last time they ended up in almost this exact position. So why would it—

Katsuki has to force down the voice in his head that sounds suspiciously like Eijiro. The one that’s telling him to pay attention to the way things are because all the detail and information he needs is already there .

“Fine,” Katsuki agrees gruffly, refusing to let go of Izuku’s ankle because he feels like somehow that will make whatever strange tension there is now grow and expand between them. “I won’t agree to not swear for the first two minutes, but—”

“Kacchan!”

“ But , I will agree to not speak for the first two minutes.” He finishes with a pointed squeeze to Izuku’s ankle that indicates that it’s the best compromise he’s going to get.

Izuku sighs, rolling his eyes even though he knows it’ll have no effect. “I’ll take it.”

Katsuki offers him a grin that isn’t as sharp as he’d like it to be, given that he still feels a little off-kilter. “Can’t wait to see what brilliant idea that nerd mind of yours has come up with.”

Izuku doesn’t say anything back, but he does eventually extend his other leg into Katsuki’s lap, too. Katsuki accepts it quietly and with no acknowledgement other than wrapping his other hand around that ankle to hold it more comfortably.

@ACarpet 1 hour ago

Honestly not sure where my will to live is supposed to come from once discriminating taste ends

🗯15  ↻ 199 ♡546

@Sabrinaallen95 1hour ago

It’s normal for losing discriminating taste to hurt more than a breakup, right?

🗯3  ↻ 1 ♡12

    ↳@atori_havoc 56 min ago

     @Sabrinaallen95 ofc!!! Because Dynamight and Deku are definitely better than your ex!!!

     🗯0  ↻ 3 ♡5

@Aotopia 30 min ago

Serious question, do you think if we begged enough, they’d just keep discriminating taste going?

🗯7  ↻ 19 ♡73

    ↳@Bkdkwonder 12 min ago

     @Aotopia   I mean, no, but it can’t hurt to try

     🗯0  ↻ 0 ♡9

Discriminating Taste

Cooking with Dynamight

Episode 7:  Tonkotsu Ramen

Follow along with today’s recipes here!

When the screen fades from black to the familiar view of Dynamight’s kitchen for what is set to unfortunately be the last time, everyone is treated to a view that is similar to what they’re used to and yet somehow different. Dynamight is still behind the island, right in the center of the screen, scowling like he doesn’t want to be here, even though everyone knows that isn’t the case anymore. Deku, instead of being in his usual spot seated a few feet away, is directly next to Dynamight at the counter, so close that their shoulders and arms are practically pressed together. In contrast to Dynamight, he’s beaming. But it’s not his usual smile, the one that says he’s happy to be a part of the show. Though he clearly still is, there’s something sly in his smile, and definitely a little smug. 

The chat picks up on it immediately and the conversation switches from despair over this being the final episodes to guesses of what their favorite heroes and favorite show could have in store for them in the finale. 

“Welcome!! We are so happy to have you here for the final episode of Discriminating Taste!” Deku says immediately, rushing through his words as if he were on some deadline. “I would normally ask Kacchan if he agrees, but he can’t speak currently.” There’s a muffled sound from off to the side that everyone suspects is an aborted laugh from Kotaro. “If you remember last week, I accepted the challenge to get Kacchan to go an entire episode without swearing! I had a plan but to put it into motion, he agreed to give me two minutes of silence at the start of this episode.”

Dynamight makes a pointed glance off screen before Kotaro’s voice pipes in, “Forty-five seconds left!”

“So with that, I won’t waste any more of my time and I will introduce you guys to the special guest I’ve invited to this episode!” Deku says in a hurry, gesturing with a flourish to somewhere off screen that nobody can see.

Nobody except Dynamight, anyway, who nearly drops his jaw to the counter as he seems to register who is there. Just as fast as it drops, he snaps his jaw back up and whips around to Deku who is grinning at him in the most self-satisfied way anyone in the chat has ever seen.

“You didn’t.” Dynamight says in a way that probably wouldn’t be audible if it weren’t for the mic on his shirt.

Deku continues to grin. “I told you it was a foolproof plan, Kacchan.”

 Before anything else can be said or any speculation can take root in the chat, a green-haired woman walks into the kitchen and into the line of sight of the camera. She’s small, but even through the screen she looks gentle and motherly. She walks easily into the kitchen and up to the heroes like this isn’t unusual or intimidating for her in the least.

She smiles warmly at both boys, reaching out her arms for Deku and pulling him into a hug before stepping past him and extending her arms to Dynamight, too.

“Auntie,” Dynamight greets, and his voice is soft around the edges that everyone in the chat momentarily forgets to even theorize or be surprised. While Dynamight is stooping down to wrap the small woman in a warm embrace, everyone is just watching with a collective held breath, somehow universally touched by the display they’re witnessing.

“Katsuki,” She says warmly in response, pulling away to pat his cheek affectionately. There’s more than just fondness in the gesture, there’s familiarity, love, pride. “It’s so nice of you to have me here, thank you.”

Deku, his smile much softer around the edges at this point, turns to face the camera again. “Guys, this is my mom! She is the only person on the face of the planet that Kacchan won’t swear in front of.”

“I’m going to get revenge for this.” Dynamight grumbles, but he doesn’t make any claims to disagree with the statement. And suddenly the chat is alive again, awed at the realization that Deku had really pulled off the challenge that everyone had assumed would be impossible. 

Judgemental_chicken : Actually kill me??? The way she hugged Dynamight so lovingly???

Amelo11: I’m crying???? Deku literally said BET and then brought his mom on to keep Dynamight in line

Justaspeckofgalaxydust : I think it’s sweet that Dynamight clearly respects her enough to never swear in front of her

Mrs. Midoriya, for her part, smiles sheepishly and waves at the camera before Deku and Dynamight help her settle in the seat next to Deku’s. It’s the seat Kotaro usually takes, but the chat is absolutely alight with Mrs. Midoriya’s presence that they’re willing to let it go for the time being. It isn’t to say that Kotaro won’t be missed, but since he seems to hate being in front of the camera, everyone agrees that for the time being this is a compromise they’re willing to make. 

Immediately questions are flying through the chat, focusing mostly on why Dynamight won’t swear in front of Mrs. Midoriya and if it’s true that she’s the only person he won’t swear in front of. Even off screen, Kotaro seems to be doing his job, because he starts reading off a few questions as they get Mrs. Midoriya settled.

“They want to know if you swear in front of your own mom?” He says, and the chat still sends him all of their love.

“In front of the hag?” Dynamight laughs. “I absolutely do.”

“Kacchan,” Deku sighs, scooting into the seat next to his mom. “I keep telling you to stop calling her that. Auntie Mitski doesn’t deserve that.”

“I’ll stop calling her a hag when she stops acting like one.” Dynamight replies. 

“Kacchan—”

But Mrs. Midoriya looks at the camera and she seems to be just as friendly and outgoing as Deku always has been as she smiles and shakes her head, “Don’t let Katsuki fool you, he loves his mom very much. They have similar personalities so they butt heads sometimes, but he is quite the good son to her.”

“Auntie,” Dynamight sighs, “You’re going to ruin my reputation if you tell them that.”

“Oh, sorry!” She says, trying to fight the smile off of her face. “I meant to say that Katsuki is a very bad kid. Always causing trouble.” And then she turns to look at him again, “Is that better?”

Dynamight can’t help but laugh as Deku turns to look at his mom, “Mom, don’t encourage him!”

“Whatever, Deku. You’re just jealous that I’m her favorite.” And then, ignoring the pointed eye roll from Deku, he leans forward a little to catch Mrs. Midoriya’s eyes. “Auntie, I didn’t know you’d be here today, like I’m sure Deku told you. So it’s a crazy coincidence that I’m making your recipe today..”

Pink_f1sh : HOLD ON HOLD ON HOLD ON DID HE SAY HE’S MAKING DEKU’S *MOM’S* RECIPE??? DID I HEAR THAT RIGHT???

Klover_flower: I’m actually screaming crying throwing up at the way Dynamight and Deku’s mom interact with each other it’s so sweet it’s making me sick

Mrs. Midoriya looks like she’s about to say something but Dynamight steps away towards the fridge before she can get a chance. The chat is quick to acknowledge that the gesture doesn’t seem rude— an impressive feat given that rude had been Dynamight’s baseline for so many years— but instead comes across as his trying to answer a question before she could even ask it. And sure enough, he turns back from the fridge with a large bowl in his arms. From what everyone can see, the bowl appears to be filled with some sort of liquid, but nobody can quite make out what. 

“You’re making Tonkotsu Ramen!” Mrs. Midoriya cries at once, perking up in a way that is so similar to her son it has the chat in shambles. 

Dynamight grins at the camera and it’s a lot less sharp than the fans are used to seeing, There’s a gentler set to his shoulders now, a quieter edge to everything he did. It was as if he was settled a little more, as if he were more present in the moment than they were used to. It was like he was completely comfortable, really. As if he were surrounded only by people he really cared about, people he could be himself around because they knew and loved him for who he was.  It wasn’t any big or obvious change, but instead stacked in the little things. His fans, of course, were accustomed to looking at every little detail so the changes did not go unnoticed for more than a few seconds. 

“As Auntie here mentioned, today’s recipe is Tonkotsu Ramen.” Dynamight sets the bowl on the counter and begins to uncover it. “And it’s fitting that she’s here for this recipe because she was actually the one who taught me how to make it.”

“Yours is so much better than mine, though!” Mrs. Midoriya says earnestly, looking to her son immediately. “Izuku would barely ever eat this recipe until you learned how to make it and master it!”

Deku ducks his head, dropping his eyes to the counter in front of him. The angle prevents anyone from getting a good view of his expression but the tips of his ears are visibly bright red and everyone had seen enough of him being flustered over the last few weeks that they had no difficulty picturing his face. 

Cursesyourglowing: So you’re telling me not only that Deku’s mom taught Dynamight to cook, but that he mastered a recipe just so that Deku would eat it???? KILL ME NOW

Regulus_Star: SHUT UP SHUT UP SHUT UP NOBODY EVER SPEAK TO ME AGAIN, DEKU’S MOM TAUGHT DYNAMIGHT TO COOK

Eli.is.strange: I’m just picturing little Dynamight and Deku in this exact situation with Mrs. Midoriya patiently teaching them to cook. I mean, she’s Deku’s mom, she had to be so sweet about it

Moon seekers: DEKU IS SO RED THAT WE CAN SEE IT EVEN WHEN WE CAN’T SEE HIS FACE

“I always liked your recipe, mom.” Deku mumbles. If he weren’t wearing a mic pack pinned to the collar of his shirt, his words would likely have been lost to anyone other than his mom, but the mic picks it up clearly. And there’s something to be said about how that’s been true of both boys already this episode, how they seem to be so comfortable and caught up in the moment that they forget they’re filming an episode.

“Izuku, honey, it’s okay.” Mrs. Midoriya reaches out to place a hand over Deku’s, smiling at him in a way that makes the resemblance between them impossible to miss. “I’m not upset that you like Katsuki’s better. Trust me, I’ve eaten his version, it’s delicious.”

“You bet it is!” Dynamight says on a cocky grin that falls a little short from his usual ones. It’s not that the grin looks disingenuous, the chat is quick to point out, just that it looks a little more sincere than he usually lets slip through. “Now gimme a sec to explain how to make it. And Auntie, if I miss anything, feel free to say something.”

Manivdaring: Dynamight asking for and respecting criticism from Deku’s mom is so sweet??? Like she’s been on here for five minutes and it’s so clear that he loves her so much

Dynamight tips the bowl a little as he explains the broth that’s inside and how he had to start it yesterday because it takes that long for all the flavors to come together. He discusses different options regarding the broth and even encourages people who end up liking the recipe to make extra on their second attempt so they can freeze it. 

“It’s sort of a comfort food,” Dynamight says as he scoots the broth aside. “And it can be great after a particularly shi— bad day. So it’s nice to have the broth already in the freezer so you can grab it and make it the same day instead of having to wait for it.”

Mrs. Midoriya looks unbearably proud as she watches Dynamight talk, beaming from ear to ear. “The broth itself can be really tasty, too.” She adds after a moment when it’s clear that Dynamight is taking a break to rearrange a few things in front of him. “When I or Izuku get sick, Katsuki will always warm it up for us to sip on. It’s filling but flavorful.”

spectral_sika9: Dynamight takes care of Deku’s mom when she’s sick??? It literally could not get more domestic

HotAnimeBabe: How do I get Dynamight to take care of *me* when I’m sick???

“Do you remember that time you were sick right before we graduated high school?” Deku asks and it’s the first he’s really spoken since he’d introduced his mom to the audience. For the most part, he has seemed content to sit back and watch the interactions. “You couldn’t leave the house for a few days and—”

“You boys did my grocery shopping for me!  You even came over and cleaned up the whole house for me.” Mrs. Midoriya completes with a nod. “Of course I remember! Katsuki made the most delicious soup for me.”

The grin that everyone has come to recognize is back on Deku’s face as he shoots a glance at Dynamight. “Kacchan never would admit it, but he spent hours trying to find the exact right recipe to make for you.” Dynamight freezes to his spot, his back going stiff. “He kept saying it had to be perfect , even when I kept telling him that anything would be fine and you weren’t feeling well so you probably wouldn’t eat much anyway. He was literally—”

“ Deku ,” Dynamight warns.

But it’s as ineffectual as it always is, and Deku presses on like he didn’t even hear the lethal edge to Dynamight’s tone. “He was literally making mini version of several recipes the night before and having us taste test them.”

space_bro: LITERALLY ANYONE WHO HATES DYNAMIGHT OR THINKS HE’S COLD IS WRONG AND THIS IS PROOF

Bakugo_kisa: Can’t believe society spent so much time misunderstanding Dynamight when they could’ve been stanning him instead

Rottenlenn: Goddamn it feels good to be proven right about how great Dynamight really is

Mrs. Midoriya turns a smile that suddenly looks watery at the edges on Dynamight and he groans, throwing his head back.

“Don’t make it into that big of a deal, Auntie!” He says, pointing an accusing finger at her. She takes as little heed to it as Deku ever does. “I just didn’t want to make you something that would upset your stomach when you were already feeling unwell.”

The audience watches, rapt, as Mrs. Midoriya turns towards the cameras to address the audience. “I know that Katsuki has a reputation for being… difficult,” She says seriously, “And although he wants me to uphold that reputation, I can’t do it. Because I want you to know that isn’t the case. He’s always been a very sweet and caring boy and now young man. While this kind of story may seem uncommon to those of you who don’t know him, Izuku and I have countless stories of him behaving like this. So I’m sorry, Katsuki, to ruin your reputation. But just like it’s important to Izuku for people to really know you, it’s important to me, too.”

“Sometimes I think my mom likes him more.” Deku chimes in and it’s clear that he’s making a joke to take some of the tension off of Dynamight who is visibly clenching his jaw against the kind things that Mrs. Midoriya had to say.

“Well,” Mrs. Midoriya says with a pointed look to her son, “Katsuki is the one that actually answers my calls or returns them if he misses them.”

“I’m busy!” Deku defends immediately.

Mrs. Midoriya turns in her seat to be facing forward instead of towards Deku. “Katsuki is a hero too, Izuku, and he finds the time.”

“Hah!” Dynamight roars with self-satisfied laughter, letting the tension drain from his shoulders without putting up an argument to the things that Mrs. Midoriya says about him. 

Glossystardust: Her opinion means so much to him. You guys can see that, right? He values her so much

Blushyillu: Honestly the fact that it’s a familial trait to love and defend Dynamight is so funny and respectable at the same time

Deku groans, “He tells you how I’m doing, too! It’s not like you never get updated on me!”

“I always tell him to return your calls.” Dynamight chimes in smugly as he resumes setting up his ingredients. 

“That’s—” Deku deflates in his seat. “I can’t lie, actually. That’s true, he always does.”

Dynamight is back to grinning and Mrs. Midoriya is looking between both of the boys like her entire world and her entire heart is right here inside this kitchen. She’s looking at them, watching them bicker, and she’s smiling like there’s nothing more she could ever want in her life. 

“Okay, before I let Auntie tell you all the embarrassing Deku stories,” Dynamight begins.

“She has embarrassing stories about you, too!”

“Yeah, but this is my show, she wouldn’t do that to me. Plus, I’m her favorite.” Dynamight replies easily and without hesitation. “So before we get to embarrassing Deku, I want to talk to you guys about noodle choice.”

And then Dynamight does, in the same thorough way that he does everything. He talks about the different noodle options and how they will change the soup. He talks about how to make what may already be in the pantry work, how to modify things if something isn’t available. Mrs. Midoriya chimes in from time to time with tips and tricks that she has picked up over the years and their explanations flow so fluidly together. 

From there, Dynamight explains the different ingredients in the soup and how to prepare them. He discusses the different lengths of time that an egg can be cooked for and how it will change the texture of the egg. He discusses the seasonings he prefers to use and then even dives in depth on the changes he made from Mrs. Midoriya’s original recipe— most of which were different spice combos. He’s very flattering to Mrs. Midoriya and her cooking as he talks, explaining that her version is still delicious and often preferable to people who don’t tolerate the same level of seasoning that he tends to. 

Gifted-poison: Is he… reciting her recipe from memory?? All these years later??

Once he finally seems to have said everything he needs to, he moves on to cooking the pork, egg, and noodles, and leaves the floor open to the others. 

“Alright, Auntie. Time to embarrass Deku!” Dynamight says from his spot at the stove. 

“Oh, Katsuki, you know I could never! Besides, what is there to say? He’s such a hard working, kind hearted young man who has put so much effort into achieving his dreams. I am just as proud of him as I am of you.” Mrs. Midoriya replies easily, like every word is completely obvious.

Deku’s once again ducked his head with his ears flaming red. Dynamight laughs, “Well, that’s not what I mean but he’s embarrassed anyways.”

saturday_morning: Maybe it’s good that this is the final episode because it’s going to kill me so I’d miss all future episodes anyways.

“Why don’t you just tell us a story from their childhood?” Kotaro says from off screen and both Dynamight and Deku turn to look at him,

Before the chat even has a chance to start calling for him, Dynamight takes the tongs he’s holding and gestures to where Deku and Mrs. Midoriya are. “C’mon, Kotaro, you know where your spot is.”

“We made sure there was an extra stool for you!” Deku pipes in with a smile.

Kotaro wavers on the edge of the screen for a moment before giving in, making his way to the indicated spot with the tablet in his hand like always. He slides into his stool and is immediately met with Mrs. Midoriya’s smile, her hand on his arm as she thanks him for all he has done for her boys and tells him how fondly they speak of him. She gushes to him about how amazing the show has been and how impressed she is with what he’s done and by the end, Kotaro is redder than Deku has ever been.

Akamelili: Nobody is immune to Deku’s mom and her charm

Hycanthis: It’s about time someone told Kotaro how much we love him though

“Thank you, that’s too kind.” Kotaro manages to say after she’s done talking. He offers her a weak smile in return and she seems to possess the same ability to recognize how someone is feeling as Deku does, because she accepts the smile and turns to the camera and starts talking while Dynamight cooks.

She tells stories of them as kids, playing in the sandbox and going on explorations through the woods. She tells stories of sleepovers, of late nights and early mornings. She talks about injuries and adventures and all her fondest memories of them from childhood. She talks about them being inseparable until suddenly they were separated but how, even then, they always seemed to find their way back to each other. She paints a clear picture of a bond that can’t be broken and a love that is indestructible underneath it all.

“And in high school they became best friends again and I suddenly had both of my sons back.” She says and it’s almost watery at the edges.

Dynamight has stayed purposefully quiet through the entire thing, even though Deku had chimed in from time to time to protest something embarrassing, correct a fact, or to add something embarrassing as long as it was embarrassing for Dynamight. 

Mrs. Midoriya continues, either oblivious to Dynamight’s silence or purposefully giving him space. “Suddenly they were back in my house bickering over the dinner table and Katsuki was making fun of Izuku’s style.”

And that’s the thing that finally earns a crack of a smile on Dynamight’s face. “That’s because he wore a T-shirt that had the word t-shirt written on it!”

“It was supposed to be funny!” Izuku defends, glancing an assessing gaze over at Katsuki.

Katsuki meets it head on and there seems to be a momentary silent conversation happening. “Well, it wasn’t. It was just stupid.”

Deku rolls his eyes and mumbles something to the contrary.

Mrs, Midoriya steps back in and continues telling stories of them through their high school years and beyond. She tells the story of their elated call when they had been accepted into the same hero agency, the story of the call Katsuki had to give her once when Izuku was unconscious in the hospital. She tells the story of when Izuku had called her, distraught because he hadn’t heard from Katsuki for a few days after a mission. The more she talks, the more people in the chat realize that there’s a depth to this bond that’s unfathomable to those who only know them from the outside. Whether they’re secretly dating or not suddenly becomes less important, at least for a few minutes, as it becomes abundantly clear that they’re it for each other— there’s nobody else. Whether they know it or not, whether they’ve done something about it or not, there’s nobody else that either of them are meant to be with.

Finally the food is done cooking and Katsuki is dishing up the bowls of soup— four of them, even though Kotaro has mostly been silently looking on in the same kind of awe that everyone in the chat seemed to be feeling,

“Look,” Dynamight says after he sets the last bowl down on the counter but before he passes them out. “You guys want to know if it’s true that I’ll never swear in front of Auntie, and it is. I’ll never do it. And yeah, it’s because I respect her too much, but it’s more than that.”

“Kacchan,” Deku says quietly, “I didn’t bring her on here to make you talk about this.”

“I know,” Dynamight says, a stern set to his shoulders. “But that’s what the show is about, right? Getting to know me.”

“Only if you’re comfortable with it.” Deku insists, reaching out to gently grip Katsuki’s wrist with his hand. 

Dynamight takes in a deep breath and then starts talking. “You guys know that Deku and I have been friends for our whole lives and everyone knows that we had some rough patches in the middle there. I’ll spare the details— mostly for mine and Deku’s sakes— but it was pretty bad for awhile there. I was pretty bad. I was terrible to Deku, and I caused Auntie a lot of heartache. After she had always been so kind to me and raised me like a second son, after she had loved me my entire life, I did a lot of terrible things that put a lot of stress on her that she didn’t deserve. And then when she forgave me before I could even apologize? Well—” Dynamight clears his throat as he sounds distinctly choked up, “I didn’t deserve that. I’m still not sure I deserve her forgiveness. But I want to be who she and Deku have always believed me to be. So no, I’ll never swear in front of her, and I’ll never do anything to hurt her or Deku like I did before.”

There’s a stunned silence that follows Dynamight’s words and Deku looks as choked up as Dynamight sounds. And then Mrs. Midoriya is launching herself out of her seat and throwing herself at Katsuki, wrapping him up in a bone breaking hug despite how much taller he is than her.  She murmurs some things to him but both of their mics are squished in the hug so the words are unintelligible to the audience. But still, the message is perfectly clear: you are deserving of this love and forgiveness. 

And then Deku is leaping out of his chair, too, joining the hug. 

After a moment, everyone separates and it’s clear that everyone is fighting to keep a dry eye.

“God,” Dynamight says after a moment, “That was disgusting. I feel sick. I’m never saying something like that out loud ever again.” Then he points at the camera. “You got that? You’ll never hear something like that from me ever again. I might throw up.”

CaptainCyberQueen: I knew the last episode would make me cry but I thought I’d cry cause it’s over not because Dynamight just decided to lay his heart out to us

Yoyospaghettio: I’M GOING TO BE CRYING FOR A LEAST A WEEK STRAIGHT AFTER THAT

Cheese_eater: Genuinely that has to be the most touching thing I’ve ever seen?

Smallmightfan: We love a man who can accept responsibility for his actions and grow and change

DreamGirl97: (╥﹏╥) (╥﹏╥) (╥﹏╥) (╥﹏╥)

“Okay, now everyone eat your soup and tell them how good of a cook I am.” Dynamight says, finally handing out the bowls of soup.

Deku laughs, “Of course, Kacchan.”

And when everything lapses back into the dynamic everyone had gotten used to, it becomes clear that nothing could ever separate these people from each other, that they will be there caring for and supporting each other forever. And while it’s a comforting thing, a thrilling thing, even, to know so much more about the heroes they have loved from afar, it makes the sting that much worse when the screen finally fades to black for the last time. 

When the last episode of discriminating taste had finished airing, Kotaro had felt a rush of emotions so strong that he felt like he might pass out. Between the episode going well, Mrs. Midoriya’s warm welcome, and Bakugo’s surprising confession, Kotaro had every emotion he had probably ever felt in his life thrumming through his veins.  He felt like he could run ten miles, like he needed to cry, like he, personally, could fight off any villain that threatened the city.

He had gone immediately to congratulate Midoriya and Bakugo, surprised to be wrapped up in a hug by Midoriya and almost more surprised for the friendly clap on the shoulder that Bakugo had given him. There had even been a sincere smile accompanying it and Kotaro really thought that he had pulled off a miracle here.  Mrs Midoriya hugged him next, thanking him again for everything he had done, and that was less surprising given how incredibly kind and welcoming she had been, and considering the son she had raised. 

They didn’t linger long— Bakugo was never happy to have everyone around in his house after the episode finished filming and he knew that. That was especially true now that they were having discussions regarding making a dessert since Mrs. Midoriya was here and Bakugo was putting on a pot of coffee so they could catch her up on what’s been happening lately. Plus, there would no doubt be several upcoming meetings to review how it went, to discuss the situation with Rordon Gamsay and to figure out where things stood in relation to a possible cook book. So Kotaro knew that he would have more chances to talk to them—

— to tell them how proud he was of them and this thing that they had all created.

So instead of lingering, he had marched his way right over to Naoki and asked them out to dinner right then and there. He’d been so high on adrenaline that he’d completely forgotten to be nervous or to overthink it in any way. It wasn’t until Naoki had agreed with a big smile on their face that he realized what he’d done and had taken a moment— or twelve— to panic.

Naoki, though, hadn’t looked panicked in the least. They had looked trilled, smiling as they gave a definitive yes to the dinner offer and then questioning Kotaro’s schedule so they could line up when to meet. Kotaro had stuttered his way through an explanation of his free time and then relaxed a little when Naoki had laughed and bumped their shoulder with his. He’d taken a deep breath and let it out slowly, and when he looked back up, they were smiling so fondly over at him that it made everything feel a little easier.

“Just to clarify,” Naoki asks once they settle on an unusual Monday evening schedule. “Are we going out to celebrate finishing the show or is it…?”

“A date,” Kotaro confirms, trying to hold on to the little bit of boldness he had left. “It’s definitely a date if you want it to be.”

“I want it to be.” Naoki answers before leaning in to place a gentle kiss on his cheek. “Hero.”

Kotaro couldn’t do anything about the ridiculous grin on his face if he tried. “Great.” He says, sounding as stupid as he probably looks but not caring in the least. “Then it’s a date! I’ll see you Monday.”

“Looking forward to it!” Naoki answers before being drawn back into their work.

Kotaro stands there for several additional long seconds before looking over and meeting eyes with Midoriya who is grinning almost as big as he is. Even Bakugo is looking at him, clearly impressed. As he looks, Midoriya raises his hand in a thumbs up and all Kotaro can do is laugh to himself and duck his head again.