PH!Katsuki QL!Izuku
Life as a quirkless kid had not been easy for Izuku. He'd tried to get into UA, but that was a complete bust. He ended up going to a much less expensive school with none of the accolades and none of the prestige, but he did graduate. His mother had been proud.

He never gave up his fascination for Heroes, though. His collection of notebooks had grown over the years and he revisited them over and over again. He eventually digitized his notes and organized them, and at the suggestion of one of his teachers, he began blogging.

As an adult, he still ran the blog, and it made him /some/ money, but not quite enough to live off of. Also, he couldn't just stay in his tiny apartment all day. He'd never see new quirks that way!

Jobs were scarce for quirkless people like him, but he did manage to land a job at a café and Izuku loved it. He wasn't shy about letting people know he was quirkless, but people still thought his quirk had something to do with remembering so many hero stats.

Izuku let them believe what they wanted. He had his regulars that would come in to talk pro-hero news and it kind of became a bit of a game to them to try and come up with questions about All-Might that would stump their resident savant... so far, Izuku was on a roll.

He was content with this little life he'd created for himself. And though in recent years, his hero analysis had garnered some public attention, no one knew Izuku was the one behind it. He liked it that way.

And he LIVED for the days that pro heroes would come into his shop.

It didn’t matter if the hero was a top 500, a rookie, or even a student at UA; Izuku was a fan of them all! He liked to talk to all of them, learn about them as best as he could, and even make predictions about them on his blog.

To date, however, only the more obscure heroes-in-training ever wandered in. And really, that was hardly a surprise. The café was a local spot for local patrons in a city so big that he was insignificant. But that was his lot in life and he’d accepted it.

He was happy with the work he had and the life he’d made for himself.

After a lifetime of analysis, Izuku became adept at guessing which students would do well at the sports festivals, which students would intern at which agency, and who the most likely mentor/mentee matches would be.

He had no earthly clue that his blog was one of the Hero Network’s best kept secrets when evaluating the newest heroes in the ranks.

He had no idea that every hero knew the Deku Analysis blog and that every single one of them knew that SmolMight was rarely ever wrong in his observations. That his musings were always well thought out and that his predictions were uncanny in their accuracy.

He’d picked “Deku Analysis” as his blog name for several reasons. The first and foremost being that it was essentially useless information that he had to fling into the void of the ether.

The second – well… it was stupid, but the name “Deku” had come from a childhood friend. A childhood bully, actually, but he was the only friend that Izuku had at the time.

One that he was only friends with for a short time, but despite that, the firecracker of a blond left an indelible mark on Izuku’s life.

For the longest time, he didn’t even remember his friend’s name. He just remembered calling the other boy, the one with the ruby red eyes, “Kacchan”.

It wasn’t until he was in high school, while watching the UA sports festival that he saw his friend again. He recognized him instantly – Bakugo, Katsuki.

That’s the day that he started the blog. That’s the day that he started to follow not only Kacchan’s progression, but all the others at UA.

Since they were students, however, much of their information was private, so he spent his time reviewing and digitizing all his hero analysis notebooks. It really did give him something to do and something to occupy himself – hell, it got him through high school in one piece!

Nearly ten years later, he had not outgrown his penchant for mumbling to himself and for keeping a Campus notebook on him always. Between customers at the café, he’d jot down notes. Ideas for articles and think pieces to add to his blog.

He had outlines and half-formed theories in there. Everything he ever learned, down to the smallest minutia was lovingly stored in his analog archive, all the while being blissfully unaware that the pros counted on him.

Izuku was alone in the café, furiously scribbling away in his notebook as an idea struck him for his next article when he heard the bell chime.

(Not sure how this got so much attention, but thank you everyone! My first thread has had such a warm reception and I just )

It had been a shit day to end a shit week atop a shit year.
Being a pro was not what it fucking was made out to be. Okay, well maybe it was, but still.
Katsuki needed a break. He needed to breathe. He needed… something.

The problem was, he didn’t know what the fuck that *something* was. Yeah, he was climbing the ranks, yeah, he was famous, yeah, his save count was up there, but he was fucking exhausted. Every day, it was a different version of the same shit.

Every day, he put his ass on the line for strangers. Every day, his life became less and less his own.
And sure, he’d known that being a hero was demanding. He was ready for it.

He knew that to be the best, he had to give of himself everything and then some. There was no one as hard working, as dedicated, or as fucking relentless as Bakugo Katsuki – AKA: Ground Zero.

He’d paid his fucking dues and he’d made a name for himself. Sure, the general public didn’t know his given name – that kind of shit was kept off the record for the safety of his loved ones – but every snot nosed brat, every granny, every himbo and their cat knew Ground Zero.

And every mother fucking news outlet just LOVED to fucking drag him for every shitty mistake he ever made. So the fuck what if he wasn’t a PG hero? Who fucking cared?

That bitch Midnight (now retired, thank fuck) was a PG18 hero and they never gave her a fraction of the bad press they gave HIM.

Fucking Media Vultures.

The latest shit he was being dragged over was his liberal use of expletives while saving a bunch of kindergarten brats from a bus accident. He hated that they labeled him as a would-be villain because of his attitude and his aggression and his mouth.

FUCK THEM ALL. He fucking SAVED them, and all they cared about was the fact that he said ‘fuck’ a few times? Journalists had some fucked-up priorities. Assholes.

A roll of thunder pulled Katsuki out of his musings. He’d intended to just go for a walk to clear his head, but he’d been so deep in thought and so wound up that he’d wandered further than he’d intended to.

It raised his hackles to think that he was so distracted that he could have been attacked by some villain extra or some other stupid shit. What the fuck was wrong with him?

“Get your head out of your ass, Katsuki,” he said to himself as the first drops of rain fell from the sky, splashing down on his face. He groaned a little, looking around. He wasn’t in a familiar place, but at least the place didn’t look beat to hell and back.

It looked like a pretty good, if humble, neighborhood. There was no noticeable graffiti, the streets were clear of trash, and businesses had tables, wares, and decorations in front of them, as opposed to having bars on the windows.

Still, that was no reason to let his guard down. He’d just decided that he was in a safe neighborhood – somewhere they’d send rookies – when the downpour began.

Swearing up a blue streak, Katsuki ran to the nearest open establishment; a café by the look of it. It had an American theme going for it, he noticed, as he stepped under the red awning. There was a coffee cup painted on the window and the smell of coffee lingered in the air.

He shook off the worst of the water and stepped inside, not surprised to find the place nearly empty, save for the guy behind the counter. A guy with messy green hair, big green eyes, and a notebook in front of him.

The pen he’d been holding against his mouth clattered onto the counter in front of him and those big green eyes stared at him.

Recognition.

Shit.

He wasn’t in his hero uniform, instead, he wore black jeans (at one point, they’d have been baggy, but now his legs were muscled enough that they were hardly that), a black tee shirt, and hoodie. Sure, the hoodie had his trademark X on the shoulder, and his belt buckle did too.

Normally wore a mask as a hero, and there were enough fankids out there with his hair now that he was hardly ever recognized in public.

The man behind the counter scrambled to put away the notebook he’d been scribbling in and visibly composed himself to beam Katsuki with a bright smile. He looked familiar. A little. That didn’t really bode well for him.

“Welcome to Java Joe’s! What can I get you?”

Katsuki wasn’t sure he wanted to stay, but the guy was fucking adorable now that he was smiling and beaming at him. And… well, he didn’t really want to be out in a downpour.

Making up his mind, stepped all the way into the café and let the door close behind him, the bell above it jingling again as the mechanism tripped for a second time upon closing.

He didn’t mean to stomp, but his heavy boots and his exhaustion, both mental and physical, took the decision out of his hands as he made his way to the bar and took a seat.

“Coffee. Black,” he muttered as he sat down heavily on the barstool and slumped against the counter.

“Right away, Ka- sir,” the young man chirped as he got to work.

Katsuki squinted at him when the man’s back was turned. Recognition confirmed. Had this guy really been about to call him by his first name? Had he nearly been that bold?

UA had become more diligent in recent years about keeping student names confidential, especially after one of the databases got hacked while he was still a student.

He and everyone else had been assured that all traces of the leak had been scrubbed and monitoring for that kind of shit was an ongoing thing.

Still, the fact that this guy almost called him by his first name got under his skin, but it was really the least of the long list of annoyances he’d put up with in that day alone.

The guy came back to the bar with a large white mug like the kind he’d see in American movies set in American diners – a modest mug with thick walls and a hefty weight.

The body of the mug was curved in slightly in the middle, perfect for his hands to hug the vessel between them. It was an unexpected comfort. He took a sip and was delighted to find the coffee was his brand of perfect.

It was so good that he closed his eyes and savored it. It even made him stop thinking about the guy behind the counter for a moment, made him stop thinking about the fact that the guy was seemingly about to use his given name.

It was quiet in the diner, save for the soft sounds of jazz music playing and the patter of rain as the downpour continued.

Katsuki could feel eyes on him and was about to snap at the barista, the ire and suspicion that this kid – no… he was a man, Katsuki corrected himself – seemed to know him, when a plate was put in front of him, startling him out of his anger.

“What?” he asked dumbly, staring at the slice of cake that had been given to him. “I didn’t order this shit.”

“I know. You look like you’ve had a long day,” the guy said with a little sad smile on him. “It’s on the house. Jalapeno carrot cake with chipotle cream cheese frosting,” he added.

“How the fuck did you know I like spicy shit?” Katsuki asked, taking the fork and stabbing the cake. “You some kind of stalker or something?”

The guy laughed a little and Katsuki found himself drawn to it. “I know my heroes,” he said with a little shrug.

So that was it. He knew it. He’d been recognized, but at least the little shit hadn’t made a huge ass deal about it.

“Thanks,” Katsuki said, taking a bite and promptly froze. This shit was GOOD. It wasn’t too sweet, and the spiciness of the jalapeno and chipotle came though beautifully, giving it just enough kick.

“FUCK! What the hell kind of food crack did you put in this?” he asked, taking another bite. “This is goddam fantastic!”

“Thank you,” the barista chirped, looking pleased. “Boss lets me mess around in the kitchen sometimes. That one is one of my favorite recipes.”

Katsuki was so engrossed in scarfing down the delicious cake that suited his taste perfectly, that he didn’t notice the green eyed man move away from him.

He vaguely heard the scratching of pen on paper and it wasn’t until he was practically licking the plate clean that he felt his stomach drop.

/I know my heroes/, he’d said. Katsuki swallowed the lump in his throat and looked down at his empty plate. His nearly empty coffee mug. The treat was *just* what he’d needed and *perfectly* suited for him. Was this a quirk? Was this a villain? It was *too convenient*.

He slowly put his fork down, wondering if it was too late. If he was already ensnared somehow when the guy came back, a bright smile on his face.

“How was it K-Sir?” he asked, cutting himself off /again/. “Do you want another?” This time, Katsuki didn’t hesitate. He slammed his fork down, making the dishes clatter, and grabbed a hold of the guy’s shirt with one hand, his other poised, palm inches away from his face.

“That is the /second/ time you almost used my name. That information is confidential. How the fuck do you know me? HAH?!” he snarled. His face contorted in rage, his hands already sweating as the barista yelped in his grip and tried to cover himself.

“WHO DO YOU WORK FOR?!” Katsuki roared.

“J-Java Joe’s. That’s all! I’m just a barista!” Green eyes looked up at him, wide with panic, wet with tears.

“BULLSHIT!” Katsuki snapped, his eyes glancing over at the notebook still on the bar countertop and made a grab for it. “What the fuck is THIS then?” he asked, shoving the notebook in the guy’s face after taking a look at the page.

There were notes about him. How he took his coffee and how much he liked the cake. It had his fucking NAME right there printed in black ink!

“TH-that’s just m-my notes! Please! I didn’t do anything - I don’t work for anyone!”

“You WROTE my fucking NAME down, asshole. I never even gave it to you. You slipped up by nearly calling me it!”

“TH-that’s just m-my notes! Please! I didn’t do anything - I don’t work for anyone!”

“You WROTE my fucking NAME down, asshole. I never even gave it to you. You slipped up by nearly calling me it!”

“K-Kacchan! I almost called you Kacchan!”

Kacchan.

Kacchan.

//”Kacchan!” a cherub-cheeked kid called out. “Look! It’s All Might! Momma got me TWO keychains because I told her it was your birthday.”//

//”Kacchan! Did you SEE that?! I’m going to be a hero too!”//

//Soft sobs filled his ears. “They told me I was quirkless.”//

//”Kacchan! No! Please! That hurts! Kacchan!!” A scream.//

Unbidden fragments of memories flooded his mind. He’d forgotten all about the kid that lived next door to him when he was little. He’d forgotten that first friendship… but not that first pang of remorse when he learned that his quirk was exceedingly dangerous. Potentially fatal.

He was frozen for a moment, taking the guy in again, as if for the first time. One of his hands had a burn scar over the back of it, disappearing beneath the sleeve cuff of the hoodie he wore.

His face was covered in freckles and the teary, frightened eyes begged up at him from where he was held, only the café bar counter between them.

The nametag on his apron said “Izuku” - but he remembered that for the longest time, he’d read the characters as …

“Deku,” he breathed aloud, both his hands releasing at the same time. The notebook clattered to the floor, slightly singed around the edges, but not too much damage had been done. The guy stumbled back and tripped, falling on his ass.

Katsuki felt the world spin and had to brace himself on the counter. He took a deep breath, and then another… and a third.

“Shit, damn FUCK!” he screamed at himself before turning on his heel and running. He didn’t even give a shit that it was still pouring out.

It wasn’t until he got home, his eyes red from the tears that had been camouflaged by the rain that he realized: he hadn’t paid.

Izuku was trembling. He felt like he couldn't catch his breath. Sitting on the floor, he wiped his face with his sleeve, braced his forehead on his knees and tried to calm down.

What had happened?

Think, Izuku. Break it down. You can do this. What did you say? What did he say? What did he do? What happened?

His mind whirred replaying every second of their interaction. He glossed over every detail, slowed down, then did it again.

With his brain having a task to do, he got up on shaky legs, assessed the damage, and realized that aside from some hand-shaped damp spots on the counter and a slightly scorched notebook, there WAS no damage.

Izuku hurriedly cleaned up the hand prints, put the towel he'd used to do so in a zipper bag, and stuffed it in his backpack. He checked the clock and saw that closing time was only about half an hour away and began running through the closing routine.

He ended up closing the shop early, but no one was there, it was still pouring, and no one would care. Besides, he needed to get home.

Snatching his notebook on the way out, he locked up behind himself and hurried out.

It wasn't far to his tiny apartment, but with the downpour, he looked a bit like a drowned rat by the time he got there.

He kicked off his shoes and made a beeline for the shower, his mind still going a mile a minute, still analyzing.

Kacchan had seemed exhausted when he’d walked into the cafe. That much had been immediately obvious. He’d seemed so worn and troubled that Izuku had known he’d needed something special to cheer him up.

It shouldn’t be a surprise that he’d reacted explosively when he was faced with something that threw him off. That made him uncomfortable. Izuku knew that Katsuki was nothing if not explosive, but he also knew that he had a good heart. That he was a hero through and through.

He finished up his shower, dressed in his comfy Ground Zero themed PJs, the set with the baggy black bottoms with the orange X on the one leg and the oversized black shirt with the baseball sleeves.

There was an orange X on the chest and little tiny explosions on the sleeves with an orange neckline.

Since the cold front had come in and it was chilly, but not chilly enough for him to turn on the heater - he couldn’t afford to run up his electric bill - he opted for some fuzzy socks. They were printed with tiny grenades, explosions, and the word “boom”.

He padded into the kitchenette, put his meal in the microwave, then padded over to his ancient (but still very much alive!) computer and booted it up, leaving it to do its thing while he retrieved his dinner.

Though he could bake, he wasn’t the best of cooks, and he liked food he could eat with his hands. He lived off more hot pockets than he cared to admit. Tonight, though, he was having a fairly decent meal of chicken coconut curry and jasmine rice which made him think of Katuski.

He wondered if Kacchan still loved curry.

His computer finished booting up and Izuku navigated to the Hero News Network to get caught up on the day’s happenings. Maybe he’d get some insight into what was going on with his favorite (currently active) hero.

//All four children will make a full recovery. Though the injuries of three were minor, serious speculation surrounds Ground Zero’s ability to contain and avoid such collateral damage.

Parents are understandably concerned about the danger heroes pose to their children, not just villains. Two of the three villains involved in today’s attack are still at large-//

What the heck?

Izuku played another clip from a feed played earlier in the day.

//Ground Zero was overheard using profane language with a child he rescued this afternoon after pulling her out of the bus wreckage. Though the child was admitted in critical condition, we have received news that she has been stabilized and will make a full recovery.

Other injuries also occurred as a result of an explosion caused by Ground Zero’s own gauntlet. Investigation is still underway as to the cause and why the gauntlet was left loaded and unattended.//

“Kacchan would NEVER leave a loaded gauntlet unattended!” Izuku yelled at the screen. “Obviously something had to have happened during the fight! UGH! I hate how biased the media is.”

He looked through more reports while he ate and sure enough, they were out for Ground Zero blood. He had no idea why they hated him so much, but it was obvious that though he was a fan favorite, Ground Zero was public enemy number one on the majority of the news feeds.

Probably because he never played nice with them. He wasn’t into the fame; Izuku knew that Kacchan was a hero because he genuinely wanted to make a difference.

After having finished his dinner and thrown away the microwave tray that his meal had come in, Izuku cracked his fingers and opened up a new document. He had some writing to do.

Katsuki felt sick. Not only had he had a shitty day, but then he had to go and fucking attack a civvie. And not just any fucking civvie, DEKU, of all people. He had to go and fucking attack a quirk less extra who still apparently idolized heroes.

A guy whom he'd already hurt when he was a cocky snot nosed brat. Shit!

He had showered, but he really didn't feel like eating. His stomach was rolling and his anxiety was rising. Why was he such a fuck up?!

His phone made a noise and he unwillingly glanced over to see it was a text from Kirishima.

//The kid is going to make a full recovery. She's out of critical care and doing better.//

Katsuki sighed, sagging on the couch, relief washing over him. He rubbed his face with a shaking hand before responding:

//Good. I knew the kid was a fighter. No shitty villain was going to take her down!//

The bravado was forced, but he really was relieved. The girl had been in bad shape when he extracted her from the twisted wreckage that was left of the school bus she'd been riding. He really hadn't known if she'd make it to the hospital, let alone pull through.

//Ha! She said, and I quote, "Tell Ground Zero I didn't let the shitty villain win". Her mom was scandalized, her dad laughed.//

Katsuki winced. That was a reminder of the fall out he'd had to deal with in the aftermath of his rescue; His language and attitude.

Never mind that he'd WON that day. All the media could report on was what they thought he'd done wrong.

//Yeah well. Tell the kid I knew she could. I’m proud of her.//

//Aww bro! That’s cute!//

//Shut it! I’m going to bed.//

//Night!//

Katsuki didn’t bother to reply.

It was days like this that he hated being a hero. He couldn’t do a good thing without someone spitting on it. Hell, he knew that it would only be a matter of time before what happened at the cafe became public knowledge. Shit. How could he have misread the situation like that?

He really didn’t need another fucking media incident!

He sat and wallowed for longer than he wanted, for longer than he should have, before deciding he needed some shut eye. He would do no one any good if he was edgy AND sleep deprived.

He was tossing and turning in bed when his phone went off again. He groaned and contemplated exploding it, but thought better of it at the last second. He recognized that chime. It was an update of the analysis blog.

“Fuck. I’m going to hate this…” Katsuki mumbled to himself as he tapped on the alert that took him to the newest blog post.

//The Media’s Unfair Treatment of Ground Zero and Other Unconventional Heroes// he read.

What?

Scrolling through the post, he was surprised to see the media deconstruction of recent and not so recent hit pieces on not just him, but a few other heroes.

It highlighted how the media focused on the less important details of several rescues and completely glossed over the good he’d done and the lives he’d saved.

Instead of focusing on how much destruction he’d avoided by using calculated, well placed explosions, they hyped up how much repairs would cost.

He’d never even looked that closely at some of these articles and news reports that had plagued him but now that he saw the amount of subversion in them, it pissed him off. They really DID seem to have it out for him, and it took some nerd behind a screen to point it out.

FUCK, he wished this blog was public, but he knew very well that it wasn’t - not really. He knew that the Hero Network had put this domain behind a firewall and that 70% of the content was locked down so that only few could access it.

There was too much good information that came from the writer that it was actually a liability. He wasn’t sure that this particular post would be allowed free access.

It hinted at corruption within the Hero Network and insinuated that there was collusion between the media and the heads of agencies.

Only the benign of articles were allowed to be seen by the public. If half the information this site ever got into villain hands, the Heroes would be in deep shit.

As it was, it was a fucking hell of a liability to have some nerd out there doing this kind of work and publishing it to the internet. Who the hell knew what else kind of information they had their hands on?!

Katsuki was of the opinion that they should just hunt the author down and hire him, but it was cheaper to just occasionally throw him a few beans via the ‘support my work’ tip jar the guy had.

Talk about injustice. He clicked the link and donated. It was the least he could do.

If an enterprising villain ever got their hands on that nerd and had them work for one of the villain groups, it would serve the cheap ass bastards at the head of the Hero Network right.

If Katsuki was in charge, he would have had the blogger found ages ago and had him under contract.

Maybe he could do that one day, when he had his own agency. That is, if his license was ever approved to open one. With all this bad press, his application was turned down over and over again, which fucking sucked balls.

Still, being one of the few people with access to the analysis blog, he had been one of the few to see someone stick up for him. It was nice. It made him feel less like a shitty hero and more like one that had a target on his back.

He could deal with that. If they hated on him it was because he was doing better than expected and they were just trying to shit on him. Yeah, he was petty enough to use that as spiteful motivation.

That thought in mind, he was able to finally relax enough to get some shut eye, promising himself that he’d go apologize to Deku in the morning.

... And yeah, he'd pay for the damn coffee too.

As it turned out, he didn’t actually get a chance to apologize to Deku.

He didn’t even fucking SEE him.

Kastuki had made it a point to get his ass up earlier than usual to take a detour and see the nerd. But as his fucking luck would have it, the nerd wasn’t working and the bitch at the counter gave him suspicious looks when he asked about him. He left without buying shit.

He figured he’d try his luck turning his lunch, but he had a meeting he couldn’t get out of and then he was out on patrol on the opposite side of town until well past the cafe’s closing hours.

The day after that, he tried during his lunch, but there was some old couple behind the counter running the show. He didn’t ask about Deku this time, but he bought a coffee and a cake slice to go.

Kirishima, the fucker, ate half of it before Katsuki blasted him in the face and finished off the rest before telling him to get his own damn cake.

The idiot just shrugged and told him he shouldn’t have left the cake unattended.

And really, to be fair, the asshole DID usually eat whatever cake and pastries and shit people dropped off at his desk, to “rescue” them from the garbage. Except Katsuki didn’t WANT to be fair.

He was pissed that he bastard had eaten his spicy treat AND even more pissed that he had the nerve to give him puppy eyes over his mistake.

Hours later, he still couldn’t believe he’d agreed to bring an extra slice for him next time Katsuki got one for himself. He didn’t want to admit that he’d only agreed (instead of telling him where he got it) because it gave him a very good excuse to drop into the cafe again.

The third time he’d tried to catch Deku at the cafe was a day later, this time at the same time as the first… but the asshole wasn’t working that night. Katsuki almost blew something up, he was so damn frustrated.

He wouldn’t have quit, would he have? Surely not… right? No! He wouldn’t!

But Katsuki wasn’t so sure. Best not think about it. He would come back to the cafe at the same time and on the same day as when he’d first walked in and that would be that. No use wasting time, going out of his way, just to find out that Deku wasn’t there.

That decided, he put it out of his mind for the rest of the week. Well, mostly.

He still had to figure out what the FUCK he was going to say to Deku when he saw him again.

Katsuki thought he was going to die of impatience when he’d made his decision, but asluck would have it, work was fucking BUSY for the next few days.

First, the kid that landed in the hospital was scheduled to go home, and Katsuki made it a fucking point to go see her. It wasn’t her fault that the media was full of assholes.

She had looked up at him with adoration and gratitude when he’d pulled her from the wreckage and he sure as hell knew what that shit was like.

He’s also been rescued as a brat - sure, she was much younger than he had been, but that didn’t make a difference! He saw himself in the kid. He couldn’t help it. He once idolized the pros too.

Both he and Deku did and he was secure enough with himself to admit that he wanted to see her on the mend. He wanted to see for himself that he hadn’t fucked up, despite what the media said about him.

The little girl - Miko was her name - was all smiles when she saw Katsuki. She squealed and wanted to jump out of bed, but settled when Katsuki grinned and said, “Oi, kid. Sit still. I didn’t save your ass from that bus just for you to fall out of bed and break your stupid neck.”

Miko giggled and settled, her eyes bright. She wasn’t offended whatsoever, though one of the nurses obviously disapproved.

“You can’t talk to a little girl like that!”

“Shut it,” Katsuki snapped at the nurse, then changed his tone to something less aggressive. “The kid has thick skin. She survived a villain attack. You think my bad language is gonna break her? Fuck off.”

“FECK OFF!” Miko giggled, only to shy away when her dad walked in and gave her a look. “Sorry,” she meeped, embarrassed to have been caught in a disapproving glance.

“That’s right, only I get to say ‘fuck’ and yell at the nurses,” Katsuki grinned as he as he came closer. “YOU, on the other hand, need to grow up to be a respectable human being. Think you can do that?”

Miko nodded eagerly, “Yes Mr. Ground Zero!” she chirped.

“Good. And since you apologized to the nurse that’s been takin’ care of you, I guess I can give you a present,” he said as he nonchalantly pulled a Ground Zero plushie from behind his back and handed it to her.

“I can’t stay, but I wanted to drop in and make sure you’re good. Plus Ultra, kid.”

“PLUS ULTRA!” she cried, looking ecstatic. She hugged the plushie tight and promised to grow up big and strong and babbled on for a minute before Katuski took his leave. He accepted the dad’s gratitude, shook his hand, and left the hospital.

Fuck the journos. They didn’t know shit about being a hero.

The next couple of days involved routine shit. Paperwork, a statement to the press about the investigation and apprehension of the two ass wipes that had originally gotten away, and more patrolling.

He worked out, sparred with other pros, and took on a couple of shifts when some extra called in sick. It all helped to pass the time.

Before he knew it, it was time to go back to the cafe. It was late, as it had been that first day, and it was out of his way, but he didn’t give a shit. He had to make it right. He had to live up to being a hero.

He had to do something about his past fuck ups, even if all he could do now was pay for the goddamn coffee he’d skipped out on paying for.

It was dark by the time he got there and, as last time, there were no patrons in the building.

The bell chimed as he opened the door and stepped in, only to be greeted by the words, “I’m sorry we’re clo-” the words choked off.

Katsuki looked at the frozen man behind the counter, green eyes staring at him, wide as saucers. He steeled himself and approached, spanning the gap between them in only a few steps and felt a searing pain in his gut at the sight of Deku scrambling back as far as the space -

allowed. His back hit the countertop behind him, making him yelp, and his arms were up, as if bracing for a blow that Katsuki would never throw.

It was Katsuki’s turn to freeze. Watching the terror in those green eyes winded him. How had he managed to do this?

“Oi. Get up,” he said roughly. Wait, when had Deku gotten on the floor? “I ain’t here to fucking hurt you. I’m here to… shit. I’m not fucking good at this. I ran out without paying last time.”

Izuku blinked and slowly uncurled. He stood and gave Katsuki a wary look. “I-it’s fine. I-I said it was on the house.”

Katsuki frowned. “I thought that was just about the cake. Still. I should pay. If nothing else, then because I was a fucking asshole last time.”

“N-no, that’s okay! It’s already taken care of,” Deku said, feigning chipperness in that annoying customer service way. “Besides, we’re closing…”

“Right. Shit.”

Katsuki took a deep breath and suddenly felt awkward. He put one hand in his pocket, the other running through his hair. “I… I came to apologize. I attacked you,” he said quietly.

“It’s fi-”

“Don’t fucking say ‘it’s fine’!” Katsuki growled, “You know very well it fucking AIN’T.”

“I’ve had worse,” Deku shrugged, before suddenly looking guilty, “I mean!”

“No, you’re right. I’ve done fucking worse. I’m here to apologize for that too,” Katsuki added. “And… make it up to you, somehow… if you’ll let me.”

“Umm… okay?” Deku said, but still looked a bit nervous.

“And um… thanks.”

“What? Why?” Deku looked nervous again, not unlike a cornered rabbit.

“You didn’t post about it on social media. You didn’t add fuel to the fire. You didn’t call me out for being more of a villain than a hero. Take your pick.”

Deku suddenly looked furious. “I looked up the news when I got home that night. I could tell something was wrong and seeing all the nasty things they wrote about you, it just wasn’t fair! You saved SO many people!

"Kacchan is a hero! One of the best heroes in the country - in the WORLD. I can’t believe they drag you through the mud like that every chance they get! Who do they think they are? They’re ungrateful, that’s what they are.

They prop people up and tear them down on a whim and it’s awful!” the smaller man seethed, crossing his arms in front of him to stop himself from visibly shaking.

Katsuki, for his part, was surprised, flattered, and altogether off balance. Was Deku pissed on his behalf? What the fuck?

The thought made him chuckle, then outright laugh. Here he was, trying to apologize to the nerd and the nerd was indignant at his treatment by the media when he’d been the target of Katsuki’s fury this time last week.

“What? What’s so funny?” Deku asked, looking adorably confused.

“You, nerd. I’m so fucking glad to see you haven’t changed a bit. Fuck, I needed that,” he added, wiping a tear from his eye. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d laughed so hard.

He dug through his duffel bag and pulled out a plushie, identical to the one that he’d given Miko earlier in the week and tossed it at Deku.

“Here. If you really haven’t changed, you’re still the biggest hero nerd to ever exist. I thought you'd get a kick out of that.” It wasn’t much, but it was hopefully a start. He’d wanted a chance to make things right with the kid he’d burned for a long time.

Even if the memories were fuzzy, he could recognize now that Deku had instilled the spark in him that drove him to be better each and every day. Amazing what one moment, one mistake, was able to do to a person.

Deku yelped and caught the plushie before it fell onto the floor. “Kacchan! What?! This is a limited edition! They’re super rare! No one sells them! Did you know that some heroes have merch that you can only get if they GIVE it to you?

"I’ve wanted one of these for ages how did you-” he snapped his mouth shut and looked up at Katsuki looking incredibly embarrassed. “I’m an idiot."

Katsuki couldn’t help laughing again. The whole thing was just too goddamn funny.

“Yes, Deku, you are. Take care nerd,” he said before leaving. //Don’t fuck up. Walk away and look cool doing it// he thought to himself as he sauntered out.

Katsuki was just outside the door when he heard Deku make a strangled sound followed by a squeal. It made him grin.

So… maybe he’d tucked his phone number into one of the plushie gauntlets. The ball was in Deku’s court now.

A/N: ....AAAAND this seems like a good time to end this. Or maybe make a second part? Thoughts?