Archive of Our Own ^beta

“Who’s your date?” Kacchan calls from the bedroom.

Izuku startles, looking away from the mirror. “Huh?”

“Your date,” Kacchan repeats. “You’re dressed like an actual adult today. Trying to impress somebody?”

“Kacchan, don’t be mean.”

He catches Kacchan’s eye roll. “Whatever. Never see you get dressed up like that. Not for me, anyways. ’S all. You got a meeting with your PR rep?”

Izuku steps out of the bathroom, reaching back to feel at the nape of his neck, damp hair tickling his palm. “No. My dad’s home!”

Kacchan’s shoulders stiffen.

He plows ahead; he knows Kacchan isn’t the biggest fan of his dad. It’s all for stupid, petty reasons and— Ah. There’s no reason to get into it. “We’re grabbing coffee, this morning, and then I’ll stop by home on the weekend for dinner. He’s staying through Golden Week.”

Red eyes bore into him.

“Kacchan,” he says, “I’m going to see my dad. I know you don’t see eye-to-eye, but you can’t come between my relationship with my parents; that’s really toxic.”

Kacchan’s jaw jumps.

It’s true, though. As good as Kacchan is about most things, these days, he is terrible about his future in-laws. Well. In-law. He’s generally fine with Izuku’s mom. A bit awkward, but never as territorial and shitty as he is with his dad.

“I’m going,” he repeats firmly. Boundaries. Boundaries are important; he read that somewhere. Probably in one of Midnight’s relationship guides, honestly; he’s never been one for any media not related to heroes.

Kacchan steps forward, sighing. He’s got that look on his face that tells Izuku he’s looking for a kiss. Izuku stops and inclines his neck appropriately.

He reaches out, ruffling Izuku’s hair.

He yelps, pulling away. “Kacchan! I spent a lot of time on that!”

Kacchan snorts. “Whatever. Have fun.”

Irritation forgotten, he blows Kacchan a kiss as he heads out of the bedroom. “I will! Bye!”

Papa wraps an arm around his shoulders and tugs him into a tight half-hug, nose rubbing against his temple. Izuku squirms, laughing. “Otousan! Good to see you too.”

A salaryman getting off the train gives them a weird look. Anxiety darts up Izuku’s throat, though he isn’t sure why. Shame quickly follows, drenching it until it sinks back into his stomach.

He shuffles away from Papa, readjusting his backpack straps. “How was your trip?”

“Fine,” Papa replies. “Tiring.”

“Ah. I bet…”

“But I had to see you first thing! I know how inconsistent you schedule can be. I’m glad you were able to have the day off.”

He looks up, finding Papa’s warm, dark eyes boring into him. He nods with a smile. “Yeah! Super lucky.”

Papa’s fingers lightly pinch his burning cheek. His eyes quirk. So warm. “Still such a baby face, Izuku.”

A strained giggle escapes him. “Give or take a few scars, yeah, I guess.”

He lets Izuku go, patting at the skin. Each touch sends a frisson down Izuku’s spine, quakes knocking against his foundation. “You got my bad genes. Round cheeks and you can’t grow a beard to save your life.”

Izuku offers a reassuring smile. “You don’t have any bad genes, Otousan! I’m grateful for everything you and Okaasan gave me.”

He smiles back, tugging Izuku against him again. His hand slides down Izuku’s side, fingers groping along his waist.

A mother and young child are looking at him from the seats across. Their eyes are brown.

Izuku folds into his father’s hold, ducking his head.

Papa insists on paying for his coffee, bumping him with his hip when he reaches for his wallet. “You might be a big shot hero,” he says, “but I’m still your father.”

Izuku offers a simpering smile when Papa leans over, giving him a quick peck on his temple. He really could pay! He feels bad, having Papa always pay for things for him. Papa gets him such nice gifts, after all. Izuku has never been good at giving gifts, as Kacchan and everyone else can attest.

You’re my best gift, Papa’s told him multiple times before. Just the thought makes him feel warm, like a low fever.

The barista’s eyes slide between them, a slightly startled light to them. It quickly dulls back to disinterest.

After Papa orders for them both and pays, they shuffle aside, waiting for their coffees. “I saw you in the news,” Papa says, voice low and conversational. “Do you think you’ll go up in the rankings after that hostage deescalation in Hosu?”

Izuku blinks. “Oh. Um…I’m not sure. I don’t really think about the rankings.” Not like Kacchan does. Or his dad.

“Of course,” Papa says. “You’re the real deal, Izuku. You don’t do it for the fame or the glory.”

No. He doesn’t. Well— For the most part, no. Maybe for the glory, a bit. He can admit to that. But mostly it’s about helping. It’s about instinct. Kacchan says his brain is “fucking busted” and that’s why he can’t help but always reach out when he sees a flailing arm. Maybe he’s right.

“I heard you talked that villain down really fast. How’d you do that?”

“Oh. Um.” He fumbles. “I-I just…talked to him?” The man had been angry and his anger had made sense. Most people’s anger makes sense, when broken down to the barest reasons. Even if the reasons are, sometimes, ugly. These reasons were not ugly. He’d been laid off. He couldn’t get another job without passing a quirk threat examination that he’d passed twenty-two times before. Every interview. Every job. Every rental application.

Papa hums.

“He had issues with quirk maintenance and grew up in an abusive home and I…I just talked to him,” he says, voice soft. His heart had gone out to the man, though his eyes never once left the bank patrons cowering behind him. “Last I talked to the police, they’re considering my, um, my recommendation of a rehab clinic in conjunction with his proposed sentence.”

Their coffees are handed out. Papa grabs both, nodding toward a table. “You’re too hard on yourself.”

“Hm?”

“I can hear it in your voice,” Papa says. “You blame yourself for it getting that bad. Wish he didn’t have to be punished. You always hate it when they end up in jail.”

Izuku blushes hard, ears burning. Papa really does know him best. “Y-yeah. It’s just…sad. And I think the whole system is more punitive than rehabilitative, still. So…”

They slide into their respective sides of the small table, Papa handing over Izuku’s coffee. He takes it, numb fingers curling uncertainly around the shape. Papa gives him a fond smile that makes his tummy hurt. “You’d rather be doing rescue missions all the time, wouldn’t you?”

“Ah. Well, I prefer being a rescue hero, yeah.” He does. Lifting people onto his back, giving impenetrable smiles. Serving as someone else’s bedrock.

“Izuku, wait for it to cool first.”

He blinks, setting the coffee back down. “R-right.” He definitely would have burned his tongue; he always does. Kacchan always rolls his eyes when he does, too. You never learn, nerd, do you?

Papa reaches across the table for his hand. Izuku flushes, rocking slightly in his chair. Papa’s always such a reassuring presence.

“Izuku,” Papa intones softly. “Sit still.”

He stiffens. He’s thankful Papa was able to catch him; that was embarrassing. Ugh.

“So how has work been? Besides that.”

“Oh.” He brightens, sitting straighter. “It’s been really good. I was called in on a rescue effort in a Naboo building collapse yesterday and we got everybody out. No casualties! Not even any injuries from the heroes on-site.”

“That’s very impressive!” Papa says, eyes wide over his warm smile. “Like we were just saying. Rescue missions! You really excel at the rescue missions.”

He flushes, ducking his head. “W-well, they’re my favorite, so…”

“Chin up, Izuku. I just gave you a compliment.”

He forces his head back up, swallowing thickly. He takes a second before he’s able to plant his eyes on Papa’s. “Thank you, Otousan,” he replies.

Papa nods. “Of course. You have no idea how proud I am of you, Izuku. It’s amazing to think that my own son is out there, saving lives everyday.”

“Otousan,” he laughs, blushing. “It’s just my job, I…” He trails off.

Kacchan stares back at him from the entrance to the coffeeshop.

“Izuku?” Papa prompts.

“Kacchan?” he asks, confused. “I thought you were at work.”

Papa twists in his chair, looking at Kacchan. “Oh! Hello, Katsuki-kun. How good to see you.”

Kacchan’s face is curiously blank. He meets Papa’s eyes for a moment before looking back to Izuku. As he approaches the table, Izuku feels something weird in his chest twist. “Hey. I’m gonna grab a coffee. Can I sit with you?”

“I…” Izuku glances at Papa, searching for permission. There is none. There’s no refusal, either, though. Only…blank, just like Kacchan. “Sure? Are you okay, Kacchan? I thought you were on shift.”

“I’m fine,” Kacchan says. Then, “Hi, Midoriya-san.”

“Hi, Katsuki-kun,” Papa replies.

Kacchan stuffs his hands into his pockets and heads for the barista.

“That’s weird,” Izuku whispers to himself, pinching his lower lip.

“Hm? Speak up, Izuku.”

He jolts. “Ah! I was just saying that, um. I thought Kacchan had work, so it’s weird to see him here.”

Papa hums. “That is weird.”

It’s very weird. He isn’t sure what to make of it.

Papa eyes him. “Do you want him here?”

Izuku blinks. “Huh?”

“Izuku. If you don’t want him here, I’ll tell him to leave.”

He flounders, hands raised. “N-no, it’s fine, Otousan! I’m always happy to see Kacchan. I’m just confused because he’s supposed to be on shift, right now. Or I thought he was.”

Papa’s eyes are dark and wide, large on his face. “Hm,” he says absently, voice light.

Kacchan stomps back to their table, sitting heavily beside Izuku.

Izuku’s body winds tight, teeth grinding. He doesn’t understand what’s happening right now. He doesn’t know how to hold his body or how to behave. This isn’t good. He doesn’t have a script for this.

Kacchan and Papa have always been a terrible combination in his mind.

“So how have you been, Katsuki-kun?” Papa asks, friendly.

“Fine,” Kacchan says shortly.

Izuku restrains the urge to groan and bury his face in the table.

“That’s good.” He miserably watches his father shift in his chair. This is so fucking awkward. “And you and Izuku have been well?”

Kacchan wraps an arm around Izuku’s shoulders, tugging him against his side. Izuku flushes, bewildered. Kacchan really isn’t one to express PDA and Izuku’s generally too awkward to attempt it, either. “We’ve been great,” Kacchan says.

“That’s wonderful to hear,” Papa replies, smiling. His eyes are warm. “I know Izuku could just go on and on about you forever, even now. It’s great to see that spark between you as strong as ever.”

“Yep,” Kacchan replies. “We’re super in love.”

Izuku’s face burns. What a declaration! In public, no less! From Kacchan!

Papa raises an eyebrow, smile unmoving on his face. Izuku recognizes the expression well, though. He’s amused. He’s also annoyed.

Izuku’s heart pounds hard and heavy at the recognition. “K-Kacchan,” he whispers. “Please.”

Kacchan squeezes him, palm warm and firm through his button-down.

“Kacchan,” he hisses, shoving at him under the table.

“Are you making my son uncomfortable?”

Kacchan freezes. He lets go of Izuku’s arm, tucking his hands in his lap.

Papa’s voice has a hint of warning, diffuse and noticeable as a drop of blood in water. He smiles when Kacchan subtly shrinks. “So, how’s the wedding planning going?”

“Fine,” Izuku replies, shifting awkwardly.

“That’s good. Anything I can help with?”

“No,” Kacchan says.

“We’re good,” Izuku says, louder, trying to smooth over the tension. Frustration swells in him. It’s always like this with Kacchan and Papa. Izuku has to maintain the peace. It drives him nuts. Why does Kacchan always have to be so shitty around his dad?

“Alright,” Papa says. “If there’s anything I can do, though, please, both of you, feel free to let me know.”

“It’s a small wedding,” Kacchan says. “Planning’s pretty much done.”

Papa nods, considering. His eyes sweep to Izuku. “No extended family at all?”

He shrinks, fingers drumming on his knees. “N-no, um. Unless you think some should be there, Otousan! Like—”

“We’ll send ‘em photos,” Kacchan says. “It’s a small wedding.”

Papa hums, leaning back in his chair. “Of course. I was just curious. I suppose I’m lucky the parents are being invited, since it’s so small!”

Izuku cringes. Papa’s voice is easy and casual, but Izuku is an expert at reading Papa and his moods. Papa is mad. Papa is mad and Izuku’s trapped between the wall and Kacchan’s body and he can’t get out and his backpack is between his legs and he can’t get Bunmight into his lap like this without everybody noticing and…

Kacchan’s teeth grind. Izuku feels obnoxiously like bursting into tears right now. He feels small and stupid and very, very overwhelmed. His eyes sting.

“Izuku,” Papa says gently.

He sniffles, looking at him.

“Drink your coffee.”

He nods, dipping his head as he picks it up with fumbling fingers, taking small sips. It’s warm, bitterness blooming on his tongue, cut through with far too much sugar. Crème brûlée latte. One of his favorites. Papa ordered it for him without asking. Papa never needs to ask. Papa does whatever he wants with Izuku and it’s always okay.

Kacchan is a tense cinderblock beside him. He continues to swallow little bursts of warmth, nostrils flaring as he forces himself to breathe.

Papa says something to Kacchan that Izuku’s scrambled brain can’t interpret. Kacchan replies with an unhappy sound.

“Izuku,” Papa says, cutting through the haze. “Stop that.”

Izuku forces his body to still. He’d been rocking again, hadn’t he? Ah, that’s so embarrassing.

“Where the hell do you get off, talking to him like that?” Kacchan snaps. “You know he can’t control it!”

“Kacchan!” Izuku hisses. “Be nice to my dad!”

Kacchan sends him a nasty look that has his insides puckering.

Papa doesn’t say anything. He just takes a sip from his coffee like nothing was said at all. That’s probably the best option, though Izuku feels a bit ill at that reaction as well. Papa is certainly mad at him because of his poor self-control and Kacchan’s outburst.

He swallows thickly, squeezing his eyes shut as he sets down the coffee and sits straight in his chair.  Calm. He’s calm. He’s being good right now and he’s staying calm. Not being dramatic. Not making a scene. No manipulations at all. Calm.

Kacchan reaches over, settling a hand over his, thumb rubbing the mottled skin over his knuckles. It’s nice. It would be very nice in a vacuum. Unfortunately, Kacchan isn’t supposed to be here. It’s supposed to be Izuku and Papa. Just the two of them. Why is Kacchan here? He’s supposed to be on shift. They marked it on their calendar.

“So, honeymoon in Hokkaido?”

Izuku’s eyes open at Papa’s voice.

“How do you know that?” Kacchan asks.

Papa inclines his head. “Izuku told me.”

“Right. Of course.”

“I think that’s a great idea. Glad you two are be able to get the time off. I know your schedules must be crazy.”

“We make it work,” Kacchan says. “We always make it work for each other.”

This is true. Well— Mostly true. True in a realistic sense.

“So you came up with the Hokkaido trip, Katsuki-kun? That’s very thoughtful of you.”

“Izuku told you that.”

“Of course he did. He’s very excited. Aren’t you, Izuku?”

He nods, neck creaking. “It— It was so thoughtful of Kacchan.”

“Yeah. A Hokkaido vacation has been on your wishlist for a while, hasn’t it?”

Izuku nods again. Kacchan lets go of his hand. His fingers feel cold in his absence.

Papa smiles, looking back to Kacchan. “Izuku’s been begging me to take him on a Hokkaido vacation since he was a kid. I’m very happy for you both that you’re going. I’m sure it’ll be a great time.”

Kacchan’s jaw spasms. “Yeah,” he says. He stands.

Izuku looks up at him. “Kacchan?”

“Gotta piss.”

“Oh. Um. Okay?”

“Then we gotta go.”

“We?” He frowns. “What are you talking about, Kacchan?”

“It’s fine,” Papa says. “I should be going soon, too. It was great to catch up, Izuku. And such a nice surprise, seeing you here, Katsuki-kun.”

Kacchan doesn’t say anything. He just heads for the bathroom in the back.

Izuku stares after him, pensive. This is all very strange. Why is Kacchan here? It’s the question he keeps coming back to without an answer.

Papa stands. Izuku scrambles to follow suit, slinging his backpack over his shoulder and grabbing his coffee. “I’m happy you have a good relationship with Katsuki-kun,” Papa says, squeezing his arm. “But if he ever does anything—and I mean anything, Izuku—that makes you uncomfortable, let me know.”

“Kacchan takes care of me,” he replies, slightly unsteady. His heart is beating hard in his chest, large and heavy. “Please, don’t worry, Pa— Otousan.”

“Of course. I can’t help but worry, though. I’m your father, Izuku. I’m always going to worry.”

He ducks his head, fiddling with the cardboard wrapped around his coffee cup.

“You deserve good things,” Papa says. “You’ve always been such a helpful, useful boy.”

Izuku flushes, sucking his lower lip into his mouth. He can feel his pulse in his temple, thumping at the underside of his skin like a rabbit’s foot over a burrow. “Papa,” he murmurs softly, face hot.

Papa makes a soft, commiserative sound. He ruffles the back of Izuku’s head, fingers scalding against his skull. Izuku feels like tipping over. “You were good, today,” he says, considering, “for the most part. I know you tried.”

“Th-thank you, Papa.”

“Izuku,” he says lowly, not unkindly, “you’re not supposed to call me that in public. That’s a word that only little boys use for their daddies. You’re a grown man. You call your daddy Otousan in public, okay?”

“S-sorry…” But Papa is Papa. Papa is always Papa, even when he calls him something different with his mouth.

Kacchan is back, hands shoved in his pockets. “Izuku,” he says sharply. “Come on. Let’s go.”

Izuku steps forward on wobbly legs. “Okay, Kacchan.” Kacchan, at least, is always Kacchan. Always.

Papa follows them to the doorway. “It was good to see you,” he says warmly, squeezing Izuku’s shoulder. “I suppose I’d better see your mother, now.”

Izuku laughs softly, neck hot. “You should have gone there first thing, Otousan.”

He shakes his head. “Until you become easier to track down, I’ll have to see you when I can first.”

Kacchan makes a weird noise somewhere behind him. Izuku’s too busy looking at Papa’s smile, his arms reaching out to tug Izuku against his chest. Izuku burrows as deep as he can into his arms, inhaling his scent. Slightly smoky, the same as ever. Something in him always feels nauseous at this part, wants to curl away like a dying limb. Something else in him cries out for Papa to hug him tighter and never, ever let go.

Papa’s hand pats at the top of his backpack. Right above Bunmight.

Izuku recoils. He manages to mask the retreat with a bright smile. “I’ll see you this weekend, Otousan!”

“Sounds good,” Papa says. He leans closer. “I better get my kiss, this weekend.”

Izuku nods quickly, face hot. “Of course, Papa,” he whispers, voice hoarse. He always gives Papa a peck when he asks. He’s glad he doesn’t ask here, in the middle of the coffee shop, in front of Kacchan. That’s considerate of Papa. “Th-thank you, Papa.”

“Public, Izuku.”

“Y-yes! Um. Bye, Otousan!” He nods, smiling.

Kacchan grabs his free hand, a steel trap snapping down, and drags him out of the café.

The streets are busy and overwhelming, worse so with the strange fog in the back of Izuku’s brain. Static. He can faintly hear the hiss of Blackwhip winding through his heart, noxious and ever-responsive to every sickness lurking in his breast.

Kacchan cuts through the crowd, his fingers tightly interlocked with Izuku’s. When they get to a crosswalk, he forces Izuku to stand shoulder-to-shoulder with him, arms rubbing together. The contact is simultaneously reassuring and rankling. He isn’t sure if he wants to be around Kacchan, right now.

“You were weird,” he murmurs.

“I’m the weird one?” Kacchan shoots back. “Not your freak of a dad?”

“Kacchan.”

The indicator shifts, allowing them to cross over to the train station.

“The way he looks at you is so creepy.”

“Kacchan.” His blood buzzes just under the skin, making his stride jerky. He grinds his teeth. Why the hell was Kacchan even there? It’s bad enough that Kacchan doesn’t like his dad; why’s he got to act on it?

Izuku plays by their stupid-ass rules! He doesn’t force anything between the two of them! He keeps Papa and Kacchan separate; he does everything he can to please both of them. Why isn’t that good enough? Why is Kacchan looking at him like he did something wrong?

“Creepy,” Kacchan repeats, acid on his tongue.

Izuku huffs, shoving his way onto the train before the disembarking passengers finish filing out. He doesn’t check behind him for Kacchan, ducking his chin against his chest when he grabs the handrail. A body comes up beside him, hot hand bumping against his. Those stupid fucking civilian sneakers Kacchan wears encroach on his vision. 

“What were you even doing there?” he hisses.

“Sorry, did I interrupt your date?”

His teeth grind, skull creaking.

It occurs to him that he’s mad at Kacchan.

“You say such sick things about my dad, sometimes,” he manages. He doesn’t sound angry; he sounds pathetic. “Don’t insinuate weird stuff about my dad and me.”

“Insinuate,” Kacchan echoes.

“A-and there’s the whole deal with you being there in the first place, which I really don’t get, Kacchan. Our calendar says you’re on shift, right now.”

“Shit changed.”

“What shit?”

Kacchan doesn’t say anything for a moment. Izuku glares at his dumb fucking shoes. Then, “Izuku, come on. There’s no point in this.”

“In what, Kacchan? In you telling me why we’re not keeping up with our schedule? You know how important it is that our schedule is an accurate reflection of our whereabouts for safety reasons. We’ve talked about this. A-and then there’s the whole deal with you suddenly being at the exact coffeeshop I was at with my dad! Which is weird because I didn’t tell you where I was going to be, so maybe it was a coincidence, but it was still weird and you were mean to my dad, which—”

“Mean,” Kacchan says, voice low and quietly furious. “Mean. To your dad, who talks to you like you’re an idiot toddler. Are you fucking kidding me, Izuku.”

“You don’t know what you’re talking about,” he says stiffly.

“Whatever,” Kacchan replies, leaning back. “Let’s just forget about this shit show, then.”

“No, Kacchan.” His fingers curl tighter around the handrail. “When we get home, you’re going to tell me why you were there instead of at work.”

Kacchan doesn’t say anything to that. Immature, sulking little…

Izuku closes his eyes, forcing himself to take a series of deep breaths. In and out. Calm. He’s calm. And when they home, they’ll talk. And while they talk, Izuku will stay as calm as he is now. And they’ll work this out, whatever it is. They will.

“Kacchan,” he pants, angling his face away from his hungry mouth. “What’s this about?”

“What do you mean?” Kacchan asks, nipping at his exposed throat.

“You— This! We’re barely in the door!”

Kacchan grunts dismissively, reaching down to palm Izuku through his slacks. He jumps, falling against the wall of their genkan. “Maybe I just wanna ride you into the dirt. ’S wrong with that?”

“Ah—! U-um…” This is very intense and very sudden. His heart feels large in his chest. It’s a bit too close to one of several fantasies he’s had over the years of Kacchan forcing himself onto him.

Kacchan latches onto his jaw, sucking harshly as he grinds against him.

Izuku shudders, eyes glossy. “K-Kacchan…” Don’t, he mouths. Doesn’t say. Kacchan isn’t looking at him, so he can’t see his lips. He’s mouthing don’t and Kacchan isn’t stopping. Even just thinking about it makes his legs weak. A whimper escapes.

He was thinking about something before all of this. It’s hard to have the presence of mind to recall, especially when he has a wet dream happening to him in their entryway, Kacchan attacking his neck while he weakly tries to talk him out of it. It really is like this one dream he had where Kacchan took him out to dinner and got him super drunk and…

“Don’t see you complaining right now,” Kacchan murmurs darkly against his cheek.

Izuku groans, head thumping against the wall. Don’t say it, he reminds himself. If you say it, he’ll stop. He always stops when you… “K-Kacchan, we shouldn’t. Please.” A half-measure. It’s the best he’s got when no is pressing so sweetly against the back of his teeth.

Kacchan’s hands are hot over his waist. His fingers grip tightly, possessive. Izuku throbs at the thought, though when the heat flares, he shifts a bit restlessly. He doesn’t like burns. Kacchan knows that.

Kacchan knows. Kacchan wouldn’t…

He blinks, sparing a bleary glance at his discarded backpack.

Right. Shit. He’s got to unpack Bunmight.

He gently but firmly shoulders Kacchan away, bending.

“The hell are you doing?” Kacchan asks.

“Nothing,” he replies, unzipping the backpack.

Kacchan groans behind him. It’s not a sexy groan. It’s a for fuck’s sake groan. Izuku flushes in a bad way. Everything was really hot for a bit and now it’s not at all. That sucks.

Bunmight securely in his arms, he straightens. Mood is destroyed, but it was an unfortunately necessary casualty. It isn’t the first time and certainly won’t be the last time he kills Kacchan’s desire by securing Bunmight.

“Situated?” Kacchan asks.

Izuku looks at him. “Huh? Yeah. I mean— What?”

“Good.” Then Kacchan is on him again, shoving him against the wall. Hard.

Izuku gasps, allowing Kacchan free reign to start mauling his jaw, nipping and sucking dark patches into the thin skin. A whine escapes when Kacchan reaches down to knead him through his pants again, much more forcefully. “Ohmigosh, Kacchan…!”

Kacchan’s mouth is hot and unrelenting.

He keens, squeezing Bunmight hard against his chest. His canine saws into his lower lip, drool sliding past. Kacchan presses onto him, an unyielding force.

“Hah…” He squirms, grimacing when Kacchan spends too long attacking the strip of skin between his jaw and his ear. “M-mm, Kacchan.”

It is weird, he thinks distantly, how ardent Kacchan is being. Aggressive isn’t really his style in bed and he can’t stand to be anywhere near Bunmight. Yet here he is, sucking hickies into Izuku’s skin like it’s free real estate and pushing his chest against Izuku’s, trapping Bunmight between them like it’s no issue.

“Kacchan,” he pants, twisting. Kacchan just takes the new position to nip a new column down his neck, mouth wet and hot. He’s moving with a single-minded focus, almost like he’s on a mission.

A mission…?

Is Kacchan trying to do something right now?

Maybe? Bunmight sounds just as uncertain. I don’t think this is a good idea.

Izuku grimaces. “Kacchan, wait—”

Teeth and tongue against his jaw, sending a sweet shiver down his spine. Kacchan’s thigh is an uncompromising pressure against his trapped cock, rubbing in Izuku’s favorite rhythm.

Yeah, he’s definitely aiming for something.

“W-wait, Kacchan, just wait—”

He rocks against him, dragging his thoughts back toward that hazy feel-good place. And Kacchan’s not listening to him, which just makes it even better and worse at the same time. He feels a swoop in his stomach, something elated and sick and deeply, deeply scared.

Fuck, that’s so good, though. It’s so good, Kacchan on him, Kacchan wanting him. Kacchan’s gonna fuck himself on him, isn’t he? Right in the genkan. And it’s like that dream he had, with Kacchan pushing him so hard against the wall that he gets bruises along his spine and—

Izuku . This is a bad idea.

Izuku swallows, peeling Kacchan off of him.

“The hell, nerd?” Kacchan gripes, rucking Izuku’s shirt up. “What’s your problem? Can’t handle—”

“What’re you doing?”

Kacchan freezes. Guilty.

Huh.

Good job, Bunmight congratulates him. But the fight’s probably not over.

He squeezes him tighter against his chest, petting his head as he studies Kacchan’s jumping jaw.

“Stop fucking thinking so much, Izuku. Can we just get back to it? Damn.”

He cocks his head. “Kacchan, were you trying to distract me?”

“No,” Kacchan replies. He says it in that stiff, awkward way he always does when he’s lying. Kacchan is not a good liar.

He frowns, rubbing Bunmight’s ear. Now that he’s slightly less horny, his thoughts arrive quickly with bundles of details. “You were really touchy in the café, too.”

Kacchan doesn’t say anything.

Izuku readjusts Bunmight, cradling him in the crook of his arm. “What were you doing there, anyways? I— We were going to talk about that. I thought you were working today.”

“Are you really going into nerd mode right now when you’ve got a boner,” Kacchan says flatly.

Izuku hums, tapping at his mouth. “You don’t want me to ask questions. Is that why you did that, just now? Pushing me around in the genkan? You were really aggressive, more than usual. And when I pushed back a little, you were a bit of a jerk about it.” It was really fucking hot. “I liked it a lot, but usually when I like it like that, you don’t like it. We’re not super compatible there…which is fine! But still. Very mysterious. And then you were really going at my neck.” He points at the corner of his jaw. “You never leave hickies this high—”

“Izuku,” Kacchan snaps.

“Were you hit with an aphrodisiac quirk, Kacchan? Because you know it’s inadvisable to go unaccompanied in public while under those kinds of effects, regardless of the—”

“Izuku.”

“‘Cause I can’t have sex with you under those circumstances unless we know the precise quirk registration information!”

“Izuku.”

“Not to say that you necessarily are under the effects of such a quirk! I’m just thinking, since you were so intense just now and that’s really not like you generally, I have to imagine that you got hit by something like that. Would explain why you left work. But I’m also making a ton of assumptions right now off of just a handful of information, so—”

“Izuku!”

He blinks.

“I wasn’t hit by a damn quirk, shit-for-brains.”

“Oh.” He fiddles with Bunmight’s legs. “Then…why were you at the café, earlier?”

Kacchan sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose. Then he says, “Do you want me to ravage you on the couch or do you want to have this fight?”

He frowns. “Fight? I… Was I starting a fight? I’m just confused, Kacchan. That’s all.”

“I’ll ride you,” Kacchan says. “Let you say no as much as you fucking want. I draw the line at crying.”

He takes a step back, flustered. His heel hits the step into the apartment. He cups his hot cheek, teeth sawing into his lower lip. “I can say no?”

“Yep. And I’ll ignore it until you safe word or start that weird sobbing. I can’t ignore that shit.”

Ah. Wow. Okay, then. His tongue darts out to lick his parted mouth, cock aching sharply against his zipper.

—Focus!

“Are you trying to bargain with me right now, Kacchan?”

Kacchan looks to the ceiling.

It’s a high price, too, because Kacchan hates it when he says no. Of course, Izuku really can’t keep his mouth shut at the best of times and with something as vulnerable and intense as sex, he sort of just word vomits everything he’s thinking and feeling unless Kacchan gags him. Kacchan hates gagging him, though, because he drools a lot and Kacchan’s worried that he won’t get to hear him say no. Because to Kacchan, no means stop. And when Izuku asks Kacchan to stop, he stops. Always.

Which is good. It’s a good thing. He likes that Kacchan stops. He hugs Bunmight tightly, chewing on his lips. “You don’t do non-con roleplay,” he says softly.

“It ain’t a roleplay. I’m just saying you can yammer your stupid little fantasy shit while I’m fucking myself on you.”

“Kacchan, I—” He sighs, reaching down to readjust himself with a grimace. There’s no good angle for his cock like this. “I really want that. You know I do. But I don’t want sex to be a transaction. I don’t even know what you’re trying so hard to avoid, right now.”

“Hah? Who said I’m avoiding shit?”

Izuku gives him a pointed look.

Kacchan sighs.

“Why weren’t you at work?” he asks.

“I took a half-day,” Kacchan says.

“Huh? Why?”

“We keep having this conversation and you aren’t getting any tonight.”

Izuku’s brow furrows. This is very strange.

“Couch sex,” Kacchan says. “Me riding you. You can say no and shit to your heart’s content. I’ll even let you talk about that convoluted as fuck fantasy you have where I make you wear a collar.”

Ah! Kacchan drives such a hard bargain!

He presses his face against Bunmight’s stomach, swaying from side to side as he thinks. This is a very tricky situation to navigate. Because on one hand, Kacchan is being incredibly obvious about keeping secrets. On the other…

He really wants to have non-con roleplay sex with Kacchan! This is such a difficult conundrum.

It really isn’t, Bunmight points out. He’s just giving you something you want so he can get something he wants. Like a bad touch. Total bad guy move.

He blinks, lifting his head. “Like Papa.”

“What?” Kacchan’s eyes are really wide.

“W-well, Chichi sometimes says he’ll get me ice cream or take me to the aquarium or something if I’m quiet. And that’s fun and good and nice and I’m really happy, but then the things that he wants aren’t so fun and I don’t like them. So it seems like a really good deal, but it actually isn’t.” He takes a step back, hugging Bunmight in front of him.

Kacchan takes a step forward. That mad look on his face gets even madder. Uh oh.

“I don’t think I want to do it anymore, Kacchan,” he says, voice shaky. “S-sorry.”

Kacchan keeps advancing. Izuku keeps retreating, socked heels sliding against the floor. “You think I’m like your dad.”

“N-no?” he replies, more confused now. “Kacchan is Kacchan and Chichi is Chichi.”

“Are you seriously doing the kid shit now? The fuck?”

He frowns. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“This isn’t fucking fair, Izuku! You can’t fucking avoid me by acting like…like this.”

He curls smaller, looking up at him. He’s in trouble. He doesn’t know why, but he’s in trouble. He needs to be small and hope it ends soon. He needs to be quiet. He needs to be good.

Kacchan curses under his breath. “Fucking shit, motherfucker…” He takes a short breath. “I can’t get a read on you right now. You’re like halfway to wherever the hell you go. Like…” He hesitates, eyes darting down to the tent in Izuku’s pants. Ah.

“It hurts,” he acknowledges. He doesn’t like it when his penis gets stiff; he’s never supposed to touch it ever. Papa laughs at him whenever it pokes out and it makes his whole body feel like crying. “I really don’t want you to touch me there right now, please.”

Kacchan gives him a weird look. “I won’t,” he replies.

“Or my, um, my usel…the back bits,” he adds. “Please.” Especially there. He doesn’t want anything there. Ever. But if he’s being bad…

“I won’t,” Kacchan repeats, stronger.

“Okay.” He sniffles, hugging Bunmight. “I don’t like stuff in my… It hurts.”

Kacchan is giving him such a strange look. “You get shit shoved up your ass a lot?”

He blinks. “Only when I’m bad.”

A shivery sigh leaves Kacchan’s lips.

“Ah. Are you still mad at me, Kacchan?”

“I’m not mad at you.” He rubs his face, hand dropping to his side. “How was coffee with your dad?”

He brightens. “I had a good time with Chichi, today!”

Kacchan closes his eyes. Takes a few deep breaths. “Yeah?”

“Mmhm! He gave me a biiiig hug! I love getting hugs from Chichi.” He pauses. “Well— I like Kacchan’s hugs best.” He taps his foot against the floor, bashful. “Kacchan is the best at everything, though, so it’s no surprise.”

“You really don’t have any problem with your dad? None?”

He cocks his head. “Why would I? Chichi’s really nice and he gets me presents.”

“Presents,” Kacchan says, acidic.

“Mm? Yeah. I like getting presents.”

Kacchan takes another deep breath. He wipes his face with his forearm.

“What was going on before, Kacchan? Um. Wh-when you had me against the wall and it made my bits feel achey.”

“Bits,” Kacchan mutters.

“Like my parts!” Izuku flushes, biting his lip. “Um.” He leans forward, whispering, “My private parts.”

Kacchan stares at the floor between them for a moment. His eyes are hooded. Then he says, “We were gonna pretend I was forcing you to have sex.”

Izuku startles, squeezing Bunmight closer. His heart is very large and heavy in his chest. “Ah. I-I like playing pretend, but that doesn’t sound fun at all. That sounds scary.”

Kacchan scoffs. “I know.”

He blinks. “Then why did you say you’d do that?”

“Because when you’re an adult, you want all kinds of stupid shit.”

“Is that why you don’t do it with me? Um, like that, I mean?”

“No,” Kacchan says. “No, that’s not why. I try to give you a lot of stuff you want, even when I think it’s stupid. You do the same thing. But we have to both want stuff, sometimes, for them to work. And that includes things like sex. We both know that.”

He can’t really follow what Kacchan means by that. It sounds complicated. Plus, sex is a grown up thing that married people do, like Papa and Mama. “Are we married like Papa and Mama, Kacchan? If we have sex?”

Kacchan closes his eyes. His lips move, like he’s counting silently. “We’re getting married, yeah.”

Izuku allows himself to frown, since Kacchan can’t see him. Getting married to Kacchan sounds icky to him because Kacchan is his best friend in the whole world. He doesn’t want to do sex with Kacchan.

“…For tax reasons,” Kacchan continues. “We’re getting married for…for tax reasons.”

“Oh,” Izuku says, blinking.

“You’re…” He takes a deep breath, eyes still closed. “When you’re a little kid, we don’t do anything like that. Like sex. Sex is for adult people, okay? Kids can’t…they can’t have sex without getting hurt. And we don’t want you to get hurt. I don’t want you to get hurt.”

Izuku nods. That sounds sensible. “Okay, Kacchan.”

Kacchan’s face makes a strange spasm. His lashes fan across his cheeks before he opens his eyes again, pupils dark. “That’s why you got weirded out when I said I would do something you know I don’t want, earlier. Because you know that with shit like sex, it involves two people, usually. Two adults. And those two adults should be on the same page, want the same things. They don’t want the other to get hurt.” Kacchan swallows thickly. His eyes don’t leave the floor. “’S okay to let you do your weird shit. Fuck, you indulge me enough as it is. I know you’re not big on vanilla sex. There’s give and take. But we’re always supposed to be on the same page. I didn’t let you be on the same page as me. Was shitty of me.”

“Oh.” He hugs Bunmight to his chest. “Kacchan’s so good at explaining.”

“I’m not,” Kacchan replies, pained. “You’re the one who does that shit.”

He doesn’t think that sounds right. He doesn’t know enough about the world to explain anything.

Kacchan sighs heavily. “You know,” he says, voice bare, “it fucking sucks to see you like that. With him.”

“Hm?”

“You’re like… You shrink. You’re so obviously freaked out whenever you’re together. It makes me sick.”

“With Chichi?” He frowns. “I don’t know what Kacchan’s talking about, sorry.”

Kacchan just shakes his head. “You wouldn’t. Jackass.”

“I’m sorry, Kacchan. Please don’t be mean to me.”

Kacchan doesn’t say anything.

“Kacchan?”

“It disgusts me,” he says slowly. “It fucking— It’s gross. You two, together. It’s genuinely— So fucking nasty to watch.”

Izuku stares at him, brain fizzling. He pets Bunmight.

Kacchan’s eyes dart to the crotch of his pants. He makes a puckered face.

Thought floods back. Izuku feels dirty and small and even grosser than Kacchan says he is. He feels filthy. Ugly, broken thing. Bad. He feels bad. He’s bad. So bad. He’s bad. Useless. A useless little hole and a horrible little boy.

He wants to apologize. He knows an apology won’t fix this, though, won’t fix him. There are only a few ways to fix him and, selfishly, he doesn’t want Kacchan or Papa or anyone to do them to him. He wants to curl up in bed with Bunmight and watch his favorite videos on his phone and fall asleep. He wants all these things because he is evil and the worst and he’s been told it enough times that he knows this truth deep in the center of his body.

So he doesn’t apologize because apologizing is always a trap. And he doesn’t go to the bedroom because going to the bedroom is something he desperately wants to do, which means it’s bad.

Instead, he waits for Kacchan to hit him.

But Kacchan doesn’t move. He keeps looking at Izuku for a few seconds, then looking away. Like looking at him is too painful. Or too gross, more likely. He did say Izuku was disgusting. His fingers curl and uncurl at his sides, forming fists and smoothing out. There is intention there, surely, to make things right. To punch Izuku or slap him or something else. Something worse.

But still, nothing happens.

Izuku hugs Bunmight, rocking back and forth as subtly as he can manage. He knows it’s bad to do, but he’s worried that if he stops he might start crying. And he doesn’t want to cry. Crying is a manipulation. The impulse is proof that he’s terrible and no good.

Kacchan lets out a shaky breath.

“Y-you can do it,” Izuku offers, voice cracking. Selfishness wins out; he wants to get this over with. He wants Kacchan take out his mad feelings so that he can nurse his wounds before it gets dark, then crawl into bed and watch his favorite All Might interview on repeat.

Kacchan is quiet. He doesn’t look up. “Do what,” he says, flat and slightly hoarse.

Izuku fumbles over how to respond in his head. Bluntness is bad; Papa taught him that. There’s stuff you don’t talk about using the words that they’re for; instead you say things like ‘silly thing’ and ‘useless little hole’ and ’getting square’ or, privately, ‘ripped open.’ Because using the words for what they all are is a manipulation. He doesn’t know how, but he knows it’s the truth. And good boys don’t use manipulations.

He’s quiet too long.

Kacchan grits his teeth. “Fucking hell, Izuku—”

“We can get square,” he says quickly. “We— Y-you can…do whatever you need to do to, um. To not be so mad at me.” His voice thickens at the end, eyes stinging. No. No, that’s bad. That’s a manipulation. He just did a manipulation.

Kacchan makes a weird, scrunched up face. His eyes get glassy.

“I’m sorry,” he says, which is a very stupid blunder but he can’t help himself. He is sorry. He is always sorry. “I— I’m not trying to do a mani-manipulation, Kacchan. I’m not trying to… I’m so sorry…”

“What the hell are you talking about?” Kacchan asks, softer.

Izuku scrubs his face. “I’m…trying not to be bad, but I’m being bad. And I’m sorry about that. I know saying sorry is a manipulation and crying is a manipulation and I’m not trying to m-make you feel bad, Kacchan, it’s just. I can’t control it because I’m so bad. I really can’t help it.”

Kacchan lets out a heavy, deep sigh. Izuku feels it grind into his own bones, threatening to buckle his legs.

At this point, Papa would have done something. Selfishly, he prefers that. He wishes Papa were here instead of Kacchan because even though Papa’s moods are terribly unpredictable, the ways to placate him are well-established. Izuku knows what to do and how to hold himself. But Kacchan…

Kacchan opens his arms.

He braces himself, trying not to look like he’s bracing himself.

“Izuku,” Kacchan says. “Fuck. I’m… I wish we could fucking talk about this shit for once.”

He doesn’t understand, Bunmight notes. Izuku could have told him that. It’s for the best that Kacchan doesn’t understand. If Kacchan knew the truth about Izuku, he’d never be friends with him ever again.

“Fucking—” He sighs again. “Come here.”

Izuku takes a halting step forward, then another, until he’s situated between Kacchan’s arms. He slots in perfectly. His biceps are tense, squeezing Bunmight tightly.

Kacchan’s arms slip around his upper back, tugging him closer. His heart thunders against Izuku’s body, fingers curling along his nape.

Nothing hurts. Nothing burns.

Izuku blinks, looking past Kacchan’s shoulder at the doorway. At his discarded backpack, their shoes. The smear along the wall where he’d rubbed his drool-soaked cheek. Don’t think about that. It’s grown up stuff.

The pretend rape thing? he murmurs in his head, blinking with sticky lashes.

Don’t think about it, Bunmight says gently. Trust me.

Kacchan rocks back and forth, dragging Izuku along to a gentle, quietly urgent rhythm. “Don’t go see your dad this weekend,” he murmurs into his hair. “Fuck, Izuku. Don’t do it. Please.”

Izuku curls his arms around him and sniffles, forcing back bad, evil tears. Bunmight rubs against their chests, squished in the middle. Kacchan’s voice echoes in the concave of his skull, clanging in the emptiness, failing to find purchase on the smooth ways. Kacchan talks to him like there’s choice to be had. He doesn’t know how to begin to explain that when his daddy tells him to do something, he does it. That there isn’t a choice. That he has never once had a choice when it comes to any of this.

I told you. He doesn’t understand.

And that’s for the best, really.

Kacchan and he sway back at forth in the quiet of their apartment, moving in time with the strained beat of their hearts.