Chapter Text
Katsuki is about five milliseconds away from blasting a hole in this door.
He’s really really thinking about it – weighing both sides seriously, all the pros and cons. On one hand, he gets to stop standing out in the hallway while Izuku continues to flutter around and ignore his phone like a fucking moron – and future cons; Katsuki gets chewed out for the broken door.
Ah, well.
“Deku!” Katsuki kicks the door with his foot. “Open the damn door before I blow the hinges off!”
Who even let Izuku get his own apartment in the first place? Yeah yeah top ten hero this blah blah strongest that, what the fuck ever, Izuku barely knows how to make rice. This man should not be allowed to live alone, period.
Aghh, why the hell did Katsuki ever agree to partner up Izuku in the first place? They’ve worked as pros for almost three years now, and sure Deku can throw down in a fight, but Katsuki has about two dozen reports that need Izuku’s statement and if Katsuki gets one more phone call from the hero commission, Katsuki is going to throw someone off a bridge (metaphor, metaphor! Jesus Christ, don’t send him back to counseling).
“Deku!!!” Katsuki hisses. “I’m gonna’ strangle you for this!”
One more kick, and the lock gives.
“Fuck me,” Katsuki curses, and steps in to close the door behind him. “Your apartment is a piece of shit. You’re on a pro salary; it’s time you damn well use it!”
He doesn’t get an answer. Katsuki squints suspiciously, and checks his watch. Izuku’s dumb red shoes are in the hall, and it’s ten pm on a Saturday, so Izuku should be home. Well – unless he’s out with his annoying friends, but that nerd never goes anywhere without attempting to drag him along, or without telling Katsuki about it in a billion texts. His phone hasn’t blown up, so – he’s definitely not out drinking.
“Yo, Deku? You home?”
Damn, Izuku will kill him if he finds out he broke into his apartment. Eh, whatever, he’ll replace the lock later. Katsuki sets down his bag and wanders further in. It’s the same as the last time Katsuki saw it; the All Might obsession is less severe, but Izuku still has a few choice posters framed on the wall. Photographs, fanart, a shelf of their team’s first gen of figurines. Kinda’ creepy, but Katsuki won’t pretend he doesn’t have the pre-productions hiding in a bin under his bed.
Katsuki blinks heavily when he finds Izuku standing in the middle of the kitchen, staring into the sink.
“Aye!” Katsuki shouts, stomping towards him. “Why the hell’re you ignoring me! I need your sig-”
Izuku suddenly jumps out of his skin; a full startle, like Katsuki had jabbed him with an electric baton. It’s so sudden that it (almost) scares Katsuki shitless.
“Oh –” Izuku shakes. “You’re – oh.”
“Holy shit dude, what the hell is your problem?” Katsuki throws up his arms. “How the fuck did you not hear me?”
Izuku doesn’t look right. Well – he looks fine physically but – he’s looking at Katsuki like he’s a total stranger. Katsuki leans closer, and Izuku’s eyes don’t track him. Mentally, he’s somewhere far away.
“Um,” Izuku blinks, and it looks like he’s trying to shake himself out of it. “Sorry. I was – I’m. Kacchan?”
Okay, that’s weird. Some of Katsuki’s anger ebbs into concern.
“Oi, what’s wrong? Did you get hit with a weird quirk or something?”
Wouldn’t be the first time, but hello, it’s their day off. He steps closer, checking Izuku for injuries, but Izuku trembles and slams his back into the pantry cabinet. It rattles and shakes, because Izuku is almost two-hundred pounds of muscle, not unlike Katsuki himself. But the symbol of peace shouldn’t tremble like that. It’s – wrong.
“I’m okay,” Izuku says, and he repeats it like he’s trying to convince himself. “I’m okay, I’m okay.”
Katsuki snarls, and grabs him by the back of the neck. He tries to get Izuku to look him in the eye, but he’s jerking out of his grip like a disoriented spaz.
“If you’re on drugs I’m gonna’ be so fucking pissed at you.”
“No!” Izuku flinches. “Don’t touch me!”
That’s…also strange. They’re partners. Katsuki has carried this guy to the hospital on his back more times than he’d like to admit.
Katsuki grips Izuku’s head like a dog, and pries open one of his eyes by the bottom lid. Izuku is too out of it to fight him, but he’s still naturally strong and a pain in the ass, so Katsuki hisses “Stay still!” and Izuku freezes full stop.
Well, his pupils aren’t dilated, but they’re not tracking movement. He looks foggy and…
Katsuki pushes up his bangs to check his temperature. Izuku shivers. Not a flinch, not a fight – but a full body shudder, like Katsuki just scratched down his back with his nails. He makes a short, breathy sound, and Katsuki feels dread squeeze in his stomach.
“Kacchan,” Izuku exhales. “Sorry. I’m sorry. Don’t touch me – I don’t deserve it – I can handle this, please.”
Don’t deserve it?
Katsuki’s eyes snap wide open.
There’s no way, right? No way – it has to be something else. Katsuki tries desperately to convince himself, but all the signs are there.
Katsuki grabs Izuku’s shirt sleeve and pushes it up to his elbow. Sure enough, there are rope burns on his wrists.
“Well isn’t that a surprise,” Katsuki murmurs. “I didn’t think you had it in you.”
“Don’t look,” Izuku squirms. “I’m dirty. I’m bad – I was bad – that’s why –” Izuku slams a hand over his mouth, like two sides of his brain are arguing with each other. The reality of the situation hits Katsuki like a bullet train, and his morbid fascination is derailed right out the window.
“You’re dropped.”
“Ah. I’m – I’m okay. I deserve it.”
“Who did this?!” Katsuki growls, grabbing Izuku’s wrist, which has been reddened on top of old scars. He brings it up to Izuku’s field of view. “Deku, tell me their name. Where did you meet them?”
Izuku struggles to speak.
“It – doesn’t matter –”
“Doesn’t matter my ass!” Katsuki shouts, and Izuku flinches hard against the wall, and Katsuki internally kicks himself in the face. He knows he can’t yell right now (no matter how much he wants to), so Katsuki forces himself to be calm, pushes down all the uncanny rage and the desire to explode everything in a ten-mile radius. Katsuki presses his hand to Izuku’s cheek, and tries to speak evenly. “Deku, you’re in subspace right now. Whoever you were with should not have left you like this.”
“Master was good to me. It isn’t his fault!” Izuku cries, and his voice begins to crack, and Katsuki internally curses this guy to hell and back. Izuku looks embarrassed, like he’s semi-aware of what he’s saying, but can’t stop.
Alright, one problem at a time. Katsuki pets softly over Izuku’s cheek, and asks, “Does he always leave you like this?”
Izuku shivers like he’s never been touched in his life.
“Ye-es sir.”
Sir.
“You’re stuck,” Katsuki notes. He pets across Izuku’s sweaty bangs, and distracts him as he pulls his shirt collar away to see how fucked up his neck is. He can’t see much like this, damn. “Izuku.”
Izuku’s eyes look up, still blinking like he’s trying to see in the dark.
“Yes.”
“You need to go back in.”
“No no no! I just need some water, please. Please.”
Katsuki rolls his knuckles over his cheeks, up to his temple, and down to Izuku’s ears. He can feel a possessive instinct taking over, but Katsuki knows he needs to keep a level head about this. Izuku is not his sub.
“Listen very carefully. I’m going to tell you everything I do before I do it,” Katsuki says. “I’m going to coax you back in there, you’re going to ride out the rest of your drop with me – and then I’m going to pull you back out. Do you understand? I’m going to catch you.”
Izuku cries, but it doesn’t even look like crying. Water just falls out of his eyes, off his cheeks and to the floor – as if he doesn’t even notice.
“Ka-cchan?”
Katsuki could level a town right now. Whoever did this is going to wish they were never born.
It’s eating him up inside – the overwhelming desire to calm and hold and kiss – but this isn’t his – Izuku is NOT his – and Katsuki has to keep those two thoughts entirely separate.
“I’m going to take care of you,” Katsuki presses.
Izuku sways a little, and brings a hand to rest at his elbow.
“Okay.”
~
Katsuki has seen Izuku naked a thousand times, but he doesn’t want to push any boundaries right now (nothing irreparable, nothing that’ll burn this feeble friendship they’ve molded from ash), so Katsuki places Izuku in the tub in his underwear.
He’s still fighting the drop – Katsuki can see it in his eyes. He gets the bath good and hot, and nudges Izuku by the shoulder.
“Lay down with your head on the rim.”
Izuku follows without question.
“Good boy,” Katsuki blurts, and then flinches. But Izuku’s chest shudders, so Katsuki plays it off. “Quit fighting it. I told you I was here for you, didn’t I?”
“Yes sir,” Izuku says, and then frowns, like he knows something isn’t right. Obviously, it would be disorienting to receive aftercare from someone you didn’t sleep with, so Katsuki grabs the empty cup off of Izuku’s sink and sits on the rim of the tub.
“You can call me sir,” Katsuki says, fitting his fingers against Izuku’s forehead. “You can call me whatever you’d like, okay?”
“Okay.”
It should be awkward. Katsuki should feel sick and gross – this is his best friend, fuck, but it’s like the other part of his brain has stepped in, and he just wants to be what Izuku needs right now. Whatever the fuck that is.
“I’m going to pour water on your head.”
“Okay.”
Katsuki scoops up water and drizzles it slowly, flattening down curls section by section. He lets it run like a stream, gentle and calming. Water drizzles down wide, firm shoulders, down muscle and scars and scars and more scars.
Katsuki has done this particular trick on hard cases in the past – and after the third cup of water, Izuku’s eyes slide shut.
Now, Katsuki can peek at his injuries. He pours another cup of water off of Izuku’s wet hair, letting it run down his back in droplets, and Katsuki studies the rope burns on Izuku’s wrists and throat. They aren’t bloody, but Katsuki can see open wounds on his thighs, leading up and under his boxers – and Katsuki scowls, because he would’ve treated those before letting a partner walk out the door.
Izuku has had much worse in battle, obviously, but this is different. This is sex, not crime fighting, and if Izuku doesn’t know the difference, Katsuki is about to give him the lecture of a lifetime.
“Idiot,” Katsuki whispers, then bites his cheek. Luckily, Izuku didn’t hear it, so Katsuki grabs the shampoo and lathers it in his hands. “Izuku, are you with me?”
“Yes.”
“Good,” Katsuki says, and leans forward to lather up his hair. “I want you to feel good, but I want you to stay with me.”
“I’m with you,” Izuku repeats, and Katsuki’s chest rolls around in content. This is difficult because Katsuki doesn’t know what their scene was, and has no idea what Izuku is into, or what is comforting in the first place. Fuck, this is Deku. As of thirty minutes ago, Katsuki thought he was as vanilla as they came.
Alright, well. Praise has gotten him this far, let’s throw shit at the wall and see what sticks.
“You’re doing perfect, this is exactly what I asked. I’m very proud of you for sticking it out this far.”
Izuku gasps, and when his eyes open, they’re what Katsuki was looking for; fuzzy and far away and calm. He’s under again.
“Thank you.”
Hmm, so he’s a baby, not a brat. Alright, praise it is then. Shoulda’ known, damn Deku.
“Still polite as ever,” Katsuki says, and rises the shampoo out of his hair. “Tip your head back like – mhm, like that. Someone trained you well.”
Izuku looks at him happily, puffed up and proud, and Katsuki is relieved, because that’s what he should look like right now. He’s staring at Katsuki all fond, and this is what Izuku’s caretaker would be receiving, if he’d done his fucking job right.
With time, Katsuki notices that he’s pulling Izuku’s attention. He’s no longer floating in the middle of nowhere, but is focused on Katsuki as he finishes washing his hair. It feels good. Like he’s stealing precious treasure from a huge dickwad.
“Yes,” Katsuki praises. “Keep watching me. Good boy, Izuku.”
He rubs his knuckles into Izuku’s cheeks. Circles and circles, he pets up to his scalp, then under his chin like a dog. Izuku turns his head this way and that, eager to please – which are all good signs. Katsuki wants to keep him under just a little while longer, until it’s safe to bring him back.
“Does this feel good?”
“Yes sir.”
“Are you happy?”
“Yes sir.”
“Are you telling me the truth?”
Izuku hesitates. He stares through the haze, but grounds himself in Katsuki’s hands.
“I was hurting earlier. But I’m happy now.”
“Good. Stay here.”
Izuku jerks to grab at the front of his shirt, and Katsuki damn near falls in.
“No! Please!”
“Oi,” Katsuki huffs, steading himself. “I’m grabbing your clothes, calm down. Count to twenty, and I’ll be back.”
“Twenty?”
“Yes.”
Izuku lets go, and Katsuki stands to go hunt through Izuku’s bedroom. He finds boxers and a t-shirt, which is just about all he’ll be able to wrestle Izuku into right now. Under any other circumstance, he’d keep a sub naked to avoid over-stimulation and promote more skin-on-skin contact, but he’ll have to make do.
Izuku has just reached twenty when Katsuki comes back.
“Well done. Now do exactly as I say.”
He gets Izuku out of the bath and into dry boxers. He tries not to look, holding up the towel – but he has to keep Izuku upright, and he gets a glance at how badly Izuku’s ass is bruised, and Katsuki feels rage all the way up to his eyes.
They’re messy bruises. Like the slaps were random. They’re not the marks of a hand, either – likely a belt, and they’re way too high, not at all where someone should be spanked. This guy was sloppy.
Katsuki would never make a mark that didn’t have meaning. Each bruise is deliberate and planned like a brush stroke. Izuku just looks like he lost a fight. It disgusts him.
Izuku wiggles the shirt on, and Katsuki has to refocus himself.
“Okay, well done. Now c’mere you.”
~
Izuku’s room is a fuckin’ mess, but Katsuki throws aside shit and clears a space so he can pull Izuku’s head in his lap. Izuku goes like a natural, curls right up on his thighs like he belongs there.
Katsuki feels shitty, because Izuku would never, under any circumstance, ever do this with him. But this isn’t his Izuku right now – and Katsuki tries to remember that.
Katsuki pets through damp hair, twisting the strands around his fingers and creating movements that will be easy to predict and focus on.
“I want you to come back now, okay?”
“Mmm.”
“I’ll talk you through it,” Katsuki sighs, setting his head back against the headboard. “It’s going to hurt at first. Like shining a flashlight in your eyes. But it’ll be warm, real fuckin’ warm. Just walk that way and keep going, I’ll catch you.”
“Warm,” Izuku sighs, and they lay there for a long time. Enough that Katsuki memorizes the posters on Izuku’s wall, so much that he sees them when he closes his eyes.
It’s the calm before the storm.
~
Izuku ends up dozing, and comes to after another half hour. He stirs suddenly, rolling out of Katsuki’s lap and rubbing at his eyes.
“Ahh god,” Izuku groans. He thumbs over his wrists, then his shoulder, and Katsuki can see that he’s physically feeling again.
“Welcome back,” Katsuki snaps.
Izuku jolts.
Katsuki stares him down.
The air conditioner kicks on.
“Oh, fuck,” Izuku breathes.
“Hi.”
“Oh, fuuuck,” Izuku slaps his hands over his eyes. “I didn’t dream that up, did I?”
“Nope,” Katsuki growls, and swings his legs out of bed. “Put on some fuckin’ pants. You’ve got some explaining to do.”
“Kacchan, I…I don’t even know where to begin, I’m so sorry—”
“Pants!” Katsuki snaps with his fingers, and Izuku groans loudly.
Katsuki prepares tea in the kitchen, slamming cabinets and rattling the teapot on the stove. His heart is split in two directions – the hidden side that still wants to coddle and protect, and the self that is livid right now.
Izuku waddles into the living room, jumping into a pair of sweatpants, and Katsuki crosses his arms.
“Name. Now.”
“It was just a hookup,” Izuku rubs his eyes. “Nobody you know.”
“Don’t care, give me a fucking name.”
“Kacchan,” Izuku frowns. “It’s not – it’s not like that. I just – I got too into it. It was my fault.”
“Please tell me you didn’t drive home.”
“I didn’t, I took a taxi.”
“That guy sent you home in a taxi,” Katsuki shouts, getting louder. “Alone. While you were fucking dropped, Deku!”
Izuku’s face reddens, and he looks at the counter bashfully as he takes a seat at the barstool.
“It was only my third session with this new guy and um, I should’ve set more boundaries. It’s really no big deal. I’m really sorry you had to see me like that.”
“New guy, huh?” Katsuki crosses his arms. “This is all news to me. Did your old squeeze give you aftercare?”
“Well…no,” Izuku scratches his chin, which has gotten a little stubbly this late at night. “I never really needed it. Felt uh – too personal and ack! Why are we talking about this?!” Izuku presses his face in his hands.
“Because apparently, you’re a moron.”
“Hey!”
“You never told me any of this,” Katsuki frowns, pulling off the tea when it screams. “You tell me everything. You tell me about every new freckle on your ass. You tell me about your pet rock.”
“It’s a cactus,” Izuku frowns.
“How long have you been into SM?”
“Uhh, maybe a year?” Izuku rubs his head. “And how would I even tell you?! Hey Kacchan, I like to have my ass slapped in bed – yeah right, you’d chew me apart.” Izuku blinks. “Well. I thought…you would.” A beat. Katsuki can physically see him put the pieces together. “You knew what had happened, just from looking at me.”
“Same coin, different side,” Katsuki sneers. Izuku pales and looks away.
“Ah.” Izuku sets his elbows on the counter, and presses his forehead to his hands. “Damn. For me…it’s just a stress reliever. I like to, um, not think about life for a minute. Please don’t worry about me.”
“Oh, I’m not worried,” Katsuki says, angrily sliding tea across the counter. “I’m fuckin’ pissed. You just let any asshole out there tie you up? Do you know how dangerous that is?”
Izuku scowls, and slams his hand on the counter.
“I’m not a whore!”
“Then don’t let people treat you like one!”
“I don’t! Do you really think I’d do that? I run background checks, I -”
“I don’t care if they’re a fuckin’ saint. If they let you walk out the door like that, then they’re a pathetic waste of a human not worth your time.”
“I don’t need to be babied!”
“Obviously, you do!”
Izuku flinches. Katsuki’s chest tightens, and he feels sick, fuckin’ sick, because the switch between whatever happened an hour ago and this fight right now – it hurts his brain. It’s all out of sequence, it’s all wrong.
Izuku breathes in and out, and then folds his hands and bows his head.
“Thank you for taking care of me.”
Katsuki swallows. He then glowers and jerks his chin away.
“Tch. Don’t let it happen again.”
Izuku nods, and he fiddles with his fingers around the cup of tea, and the distance between them feels a million miles long. Katsuki’s fingers are still pruney from the water. He can still feel Izuku’s hair in his hands, if he thinks about it.
Izuku speaks again, and this time it’s infuriatingly soft.
“Are we okay?”
Katsuki’s heart wrings, but he doesn’t let it show on his face.
“Why wouldn’t we be? You think I’m gonna’ look at you different, now?” The look on Izuku’s face tells Katsuki yes, and Katsuki sighs. “Dumbass. I’ve seen you do too much stupid shit to be thrown by now.” Another sigh. “And obviously, I’m no different.”
Izuku breathes a laugh out of his nose, and looks up at Katsuki through his eyelashes.
“Right, you’re a dom. I remember bits and pieces – you were good at it.”
“I’m a good master,” Katsuki replies coolly, and Izuku’s eyelashes flutter.
“Ah. Haha. Guess I should’ve known.”
They’ve been friends for twenty years (minus about five in the middle there). Katsuki has dragged this man back from the brink of death. Izuku has given him CPR three (four) times. They’ve shared hospital beds and cried in each other’s arms and they beat the everliving shit out of each other at least once a year. Katsuki can’t let this person leave – he’d kill Izuku himself before he ever let him walk out of his life.
What’s one more layer?
“Don’t go to anyone else,” Katsuki says, and Izuku’s head snaps up so fast, it’s impressive that it doesn’t fly clean off his shoulders.
“Wh-what?”
“I dumped my last sub a month ago,” Katsuki shoves his hands in his pockets. “I can take care of you.”
Izuku looks like he’s seen a ghost.
“Are you – are you talking about sex?!”
“Yeah? What about it?”
“Sex with me?!” Izuku points at his chest. “Me?!!”
“Oh my god yes, you, you fucking dumbass,” Katsuki scowls. “Do I gotta’ spell it out for you? Let’s make a contract.”
Izuku flounders, waving his hands around.
“Wh-wh – why?!”
“Because obviously you’re too irresponsible to scout doms yourself,” Katsuki hisses. “You think I’m gonna’ let my hero partner run off and get his ass killed ‘cause he tried to walk home on a bad drop? Hell no, not while we’re in the top ten.”
“It won’t happen again!”
“Bullshit!”
“Don’t make fun of me, Kacchan,” Izuku frowns. “You’ve made your point, okay?”
“I can take care of you,” Katsuki reiterates. “I’ll make it good, better than that sloppy bastard.”
The room comes to a chilly standstill.
Izuku swallows thickly. He rubs absently at his wrists.
“Don’t I…disgust you?”
That pisses him off.
“Why the fuck would I think that?”
“Well…”
“Look, we’re friends,” Katsuki grips the counter from across the bar, and leans closer. “It ain’t gotta’ be serious, it’s just sex. Tell me one good reason why not – a good one. I know I’m hot, so don’t lie to my face.”
Izuku sinks back and presses his hands to his reddening cheeks.
“Kacchan! This is crazy!”
“So? We’re crazy.”
“I know,” Izuku sighs, and then laughs. “I know.”
Katsuki doesn’t quite smile, but his eyes squint.
“Send me your list. I’ll come up with some terms and – fuck, see if we’re compatible.”
Izuku snorts and sets his head in his hand. “Probably are, if our history is anything to go by.” He hesitates, and looks up at Katsuki with those big puppy eyes that betray his stature. “Kacchan?”
“Hm.”
“Just…promise me if this doesn’t work out, that we’ll still be okay.”
“You’ve thrown up in my lap before,” Katsuki says. “If anything was gonna’ be the dealbreaker, it was that.”
“I apologized!”
“Yeah, and you’re off whisky for life. Where the fuck do you keep your weed?”
“Cookie jar top left.”
~
Everything is about to change.