Chapter Text
Katsuki turns over his fifth glass of whiskey and taps it on the bar. One more.
The bartender that’s been eyeing him with various degrees of concern over the last few hours comes over, “We’re about to stop serving.”
He hears the undeniable judgment in the bartender’s voice. Rubbing his face he slurs, “It two yet?”
With a tight voice, “No.”
“Get me my fucking drink then, princess.”
Giving up the fight she sets another glass on the bar and pours whatever well whiskey he’s been drinking all night. “Last one,” the drink sloshes when she pushes it over to him.
Under his breath as she walks away, “Bitch.”
Katsuki finishes his drink, throws a few bills down on the bar and stumbles out. When he gets to the corner of the street he realizes he has no idea where he is. When he’d left his apartment hours ago he’d been desperate to escape. It echoed with voices and sounds of a past far away in the deserts of the Middle East.
Numbly, he takes a cigarette from the pack in the left breast pocket of his unwashed, standard issued, military jacket and lights it. The taste of the tobacco and familiar thickness of the smoke calm him. Marlboro , the word turns over in his mind. That’s what they’d smoked underneath the Afghanistan sun, standing just close enough to touch elbows. Far enough to avoid suspicion.
Swallowing, he leans back against the brick wall of the corner building as he wills the memories to go away.
Sharp smiles, deep red hair, rough touches in locked utility closets.
The pleasant memories are almost worse than the unspeakable ones.
When we go home, you should meet my parents.
Katsuki clenches his teeth.
Yeah, and you’ll make breakfast every Sunday!
Nononono - he begs his mind to stop. A deep drag of his cigarette as he starts to bounce his leg.
You know-
He squeezes his eyes shut.
- I really, really love you.
Katsuki turns, his fist meets brick over and over. His knuckles tear open but he welcomes a pain that’s so sharp it separates his mind from body. Distantly, he hears himself screaming. The demons that so often haunt his dreams crawling out of him in real time is too much. Blood soaks his hand, making its way between his fingers and spreading over the inside of his palm.
It’s unfair! It’s so unfair! Why did he come home? What made him different? What made him so unfortunately lucky ?
Whoo-whoop!
Red and blue lights wash over him causing him to still with his fist pressed heavily against the blood soaked brick and then a police car pulls up. The officer steps out of the vehicle, “Sir, place your hands against the wall.”
It takes a moment but he relaxes his fist, happy with the way it hurts to do so. He sets both his palms flat against the building and lets his head hang forward. At this point the wall is the only thing keeping him upright as the adrenaline washes away just as quickly as it’d come. Now he can really feel the whiskey working in him. His mind starts to blank as he follows the officer’s order to spread his legs, turn around, walk a straight line, blow, hands behind your back.
“Marine?” The officer looks between the military ID and Katsuki. “Where were you stationed?”
Automatically, “Afghanistan. Hemland River Valley. Camp Dwyer. Gonna thank me for my service and let me go?”
With a shake of his head the officer puts Katsuki’s ID back. “I was in the service, too.”
Katsuki scoffs, “Great.”
“Name on your jacket doesn’t match your ID.”
Slurring, “Not your fucking business.”
“What would your unit think of you?”
He snaps his eyes up. “Let’s ask them, you got a fucking Ouji board in your trunk?”
At that the officer frowns. “I, um-”
“Don’t bother, man.” Katsuki hangs his head, the buzz of the alcohol is forefront enough to block out the memories of his unit. It’s never quite loud enough to block out memories of -
“Look,” the officer rubs his neck. “Is there somebody you can call?”
Katsuki swallows. His mother is out of the question, she’d begged him not to move out three months ago and this would only fuel her resolve to get him back in the house. Katsuki isn’t a man with many friends. He’d learned just how few when the only people that wrote to him in bootcamp a decade ago were his mother, father, and Deku.
“Deku.”
“Do you have your phone?”
“Inside jacket pocket.”
The officer squats, reaches into Katsuki’s pocket, and pulls out his phone. After giving him the pin to open his phone the officer finds Deku in his contacts and stands.
For a moment Katsuki worries that Deku won’t answer. It’s late after all but then the officer turns away and Katsuki can’t really focus on what the officer says into the receiver as he starts to nod off. Sleep will be blissfully dreamless tonight, it’ll make the hangover worth it.
When Deku arrives Ochako is with him, bundled in a fuzzy bathrobe and wearing slippers that probably do very little to keep out the winter chill. “C’mon, up you go, handsome.”
Small as she is, Ochako shoulders his weight and helps Katsuki to her and Deku’s Prius.
“There you are.” She helps him lay across the backseat, pets his hair with soft fingers. She must think he’s passed out because he can hear the way her voice crack. “Oh, Katsuki. What are you doing to yourself?”
After a moment she pulls away and shuts the back door leaving him in the stillness of the car. Outside his window Deku is talking to the officer.
“Thank you for calling, Shouto. We’re lucky it was you.”
“Is this your friend?”
A pause, “Yeah.”
“I can see why you’re worried.”
The voices start feeling further and further away and then with perfect clarity-
Hey, it’s going to be alright. Promise.
Except it wasn’t alright. Hadn’t been alright. Wouldn’t ever be alright.
Before he even opens his eyes he knows he’s not in his apartment. The sheets are too soft and the air is too warm. Sitting up he sees that a glass of water and a bottle of ibuprofen have been left on the night stand for him. With how good natured they both are, it could have been either Deku or Ochako who left it for him. Truly a perfect couple.
His hand is bandaged - that was definitely Ochako’s doing. He’s in sleep pants and a new shirt - that was definitely Deku. He pulls at the fabric of his shirt and tilts his head. This is wrong.
Katsuki scans the room and when he doesn’t find it he springs from bed. “Ochako!”
From the kitchen. “It’s on top of the dryer!”
He stomps down the hall to the closet that holds the washer and dryer units and there, just like she said it would be, is Eijiro’s jacket. It’s clean now, any blood that may have been on it has been magicked away by the wash. He unfolds it across the top of the dryer and runs his fingers over the name patch, tracing the letters. The patch is coming up at the edges now, it’s unsurprising with how much time has passed.
“She can sew down the edges for you.”
Katsuki looks over his shoulder at Deku. One of his only two friends and he doesn’t even deserve him. He couldn’t even count the number of times Deku’s forgiven him but he knows it’s many more times than he’s ever forgiven himself.
“If you want her to.” Deku adds after a beat.
Katsuki swallows, clenches his jaw. “She washed it.”
“The sleeve was covered in blood, Kacchan.” After a moment, “She took it out before she washed it. Should be in the same pocket.”
He slides his fingers to the cuff of the sleeve where it’s fraying. “Fine.” He pulls the jacket on, straightens the collar and reaches into the inner pocket to finger the familiar texture of the photo he never even looks at.
Deku claps his shoulder and a bright smile comes over his face when Katsuki turns to acknowledge him. “We made breakfast.”
Dutifully he follows Deku to the kitchen where Ochako stands at the stove, spatula in hand as she waits for the eggs to finish. “Coffee’s on the counter.”
Deku sits at the island where he already has a cup while Katsuki goes to the cabinet to grab his own mug and pour his coffee, which he drinks black. When he sits he notices a charge to the air he hadn’t been awake enough to sense before. Ochako and Deku keep glancing at each other carefully. Not again.
Whatever unspoken conversation they were having ends and Deku turns to him as Ochako finishes plating their food. “Kacchan,” Deku starts carefully. Annoyingly, he looks to his girlfriend for support.
“Just fucking say it! How useless can you fucking get?” Katsuki takes a breath, he hadn’t meant to - he hadn’t wanted to snap but-
“We’re pregnant.”
He snaps his head to Ochako whose face unfolds into a radiant smile.
Katsuki’s mouth drops open as he looks towards Deku who is wiping a tear from his eye. “Holy fucking shit!” He slaps the back of his hand against Deku’s chest and then he’s up, walking around the island to the stove where he picks up Ochako in a giant bear hug. After a moment he thinks better of it and sets her down, “Shit! Sorry. Probably shouldn’t have done that.” He says that while looking at her stomach, still flat.
Accusingly he turns to Deku, “She doesn’t look pregnant. Did you do it right?”
Deku reacts exactly like Katsuki knew he would, face going red as he stumbles over a response. “I-I - yes, I did it right - I know how to, uh-”
Ochako starts laughing. “Sweetness, people already assume we’ve had sex after being together eight years. You don’t have to get so embarrassed.”
“But! - I mean, that doesn’t mean they have to, ya know...”
“Talk about it? Really Deku? You don’t want people to comment on how you gave Ochako the ultimate hot meat injection?”
She perks up next to him, “Put the creampie in the oven?”
Katsuki can’t help but to laugh as Ochako turns on Deku. “Filled the cannoli?”
“Performed a little cum-in-linguis?”
“Ochako!”
Katsuki’s stomach cramps with laughter at Deku’s expense.
“Okay, okay,” Ochako rounds the counter and kisses Deku’s cheek. “No more.” She pulls her boyfriend’s head into her chest and looks at Katsuki to drive her point home, “No more.”
Raising his hands in surrender, “Fine. No more talking about how Deku crashed the custard truck.”
Deku groans while Ochako stiffles a giggle.
They eat breakfast at the counter with Katsuki standing on the kitchen side and the parents-to-be sitting on the barstools opposite. “So, who else knows?” Katsuki asks conversationally as he brings a forkful of eggs to his mouth.
“Oh,” Deku sits up straight. “Just you actually.”
A slick smile comes over his face. “Aww. You guys must like me or something.”
“Yeah, uh, we wanted to tell you first because -” Deku sighs. “Ochako.”
“We’re going to have a small party next weekend to let a few other friends and family know.”
The corner of his mouth quirks up, “Couldn’t wait another week? I see how it is.” He takes another bite of his food. “Ya’ know, people are going to get the wrong idea if you keep treating me special.”
“Well,” Deku starts with a careful tone. “You’re very important to us, Kacchan.”
Katsuki’s whole body seizes up. His blood runs cold.
“We both love you, Katsuki. Please don’t think we don’t-”
“But-”
He doesn’t look up at them, can’t meet their eyes because they might see the shame. One thing about his friends is that they are good friends. Arguably too good. The kind of friends that go to the family and friend support groups at the VA or the Al-Anon meetings at the community center.
“You don’t want me there,” Katsuki says, hanging his head to stare at the marbled countertop.
“No, no. That’s not it Kacchan,” Deku’s voice is rushed. He runs a hand through his hair before taking a breath, “We just need to know you’re going to be okay.”
“Okay?” Katsuki chuckles, the sound feels empty. “You mean you want me to promise not to make a scene. Well, fine.” He pushes back from the counter to go back to the dryer where he’d left the rest of his clothes. “You don’t gotta worry about me.”
Deku follows because he’s never been able to leave Katsuki alone despite his numerous attempts to make him over the years. “Kacchan, please. Let’s just talk.”
“Fuck off Deku!”
Katsuki doesn’t even care that he’s changing in the hallway as he tugs on his pants. “We want you there. Of course we want you there. We love you. We care about you. We just need you to be sober, Kacchan.”
He stomps to the front door where his shoes are. From there he can see Ochako still at the counter with her head in her hands, shoulders tense, and looking even smaller than she usually does. “I don’t need you two worrying about me all the goddamn time!”
“Yes you do!” Deku rarely yells and when Katsuki looks at him he knows Deku regrets doing it. Regardless, he presses on, “How many more times are we going to have to pick you up in the middle of the night? Bandage you up because you got in a fight or you hurt yourself? We just want to see you healthy. You can’t tell either of us that this is what Eijiro -”
Katsuki grabs Deku by the collar and fights the urge to cave in the face staring back at him with unblinking eyes and impenetrable resolve. Through cleanched teeth, “Don’t you fucking tell me what Eijiro would have wanted.” Spittle lands on Deku’s face and Katsuki pushes him away. “You can’t bring him up just because you’re giving up on me.”
Ochako hits the countertop and a loud smack! - sounds off through the apartment. She stands, raises an accusing finger and speaks as she rounds the island. “Don’t ever say that. Don’t ever say we’re giving up on you.” Stopping in front of Katsuki, she takes his hand in her’s and meets his eyes. “We will never give up on you Katsuki. We will never stop wanting the best for you but, we can’t continue like this.” She puts his hand to her stomach. “We have to start thinking about what’s best for them.”
A lump rises in his throat as he stares at Ochako’s belly. Earlier he’d said she didn’t look pregnant but she feels pregnant. There’s a glow about her that tingles underneath his touch. He’s done terrible things with his hands - unforgivable things but they still want him. They want him to be in their child’s life. Are desperate to let him share in this moment.
He pulls his hand away and turns quickly, “I have to go.” Swiftly he exits the apartment and heads for the stairwell. He’s just gotten outside when his phone buzzes with a message from Deku.
Please come. Saturday. 7pm.
Katsuki stares at the message long enough for another to pop up.
We love you.
When Ochako had said they were having a small party Katsuki hadn’t realized that she’d meant a dinner party. He feels embarrassingly under dressed in jeans, a faded Nirvana t-shirt he bought in high school, and a jacket that’s starting to fall apart from daily use. The shirt hadn’t fit him until recently and it was then he had to really acknowledge that his body, once sculpted and packed with muscle, has begun to atrophy.
He used to be proud of his body, he’d enjoyed looking good. Feeling the eyes of people on him was a welcomed experience, vain as it may have been. It felt like a societal acknowledgement that he was part of a self-perceived elite group. As if people knew he was better than them due only to his undeniable attractiveness.
Now, he looks hollowed out with dark circles around his eyes. The definition in his arms and core is gone, he’s lost enough weight that his pants slip down his hips without a belt.
Katsuki takes a sip of the soda Ochako had given him at the door. He’s decided to sit in the corner of the living room where none of the light in the apartment quite reaches. The dim glow helps him make himself small, like he’s not there in the wrong clothes with the wrong attitude - a walking embarrassment for people to pick up after. And he just lets them, never saying thank you, never giving anything in return -
“Hey.”
The voice startles him and his hand clenches around the glass in his hand. His instinct is to throw it but, no. He’s in an apartment in the city and this is a guest in his friend’s home.
Looking up, he takes in the stranger. Now, this guy is dressed for a dinner party. Well-fitted dark wash jeans, a plum dress shirt with black buttons, sleeves rolled to the elbow, and polished wingtip shoes. The plum compliments the auburn color of his hair which has a fringe that hangs straight down over his forehead. But, by far the most notable thing about the guy’s appearance is the scar on the left side of his face. The color of the scar is a deep reddish purple and rough in a few areas where the healing it must have gone through hadn’t done as well.
When he doesn’t say anything the guy continues, “Mind if I sit over here?”
Before Katsuki can tell him to buzz off, the guy takes a seat on the leather chair next to the far end of the couch Katsuki has taken up residence on. All that seperates them is the wooden end table between the two pieces of furniture. Mumbling, “Does it look like I want fucking company?”
“No. Not really.” The man takes a sip of his wine.
God, he’d do almost anything for a drink right now, even that sugary fucking fermented grape juice. There’s a whole cart of liquor next to the dining table. He keeps stealing glances at it when he knows Deku and Ochako aren’t looking over at him. They’ve both come over to touch base with him, ask if he would like another soda or maybe a water . If they haven’t offered him alcohol he won’t ask for it. This is their night and he’s not going to fuck it up for them. Katsuki is resolute in showing them that he’s fine. That everything is under control.
Meanwhile his whole body itches. His last drink had been late last night or early that morning. Time starts to get fuzzy halfway through a bottle of whiskey. His left hand has been shaking for a few hours now and Katsuki bounces his leg to distract from the overwhelming urge to leave. It would be so easy to walk down the street to the corner store to buy a single beer just to take the edge off.
Jesus, he hates himself.
“Why the fuck would you sit down then, shit for brains?”
Fuck. He’s even more volatile than usual.
“I thought it would be quiet over here.”
“It was. ” Katsuki leans over his knees and flexes both hands around his glass.
Ignoring Katsuki, the stranger continues, “I’m also not very skilled with small talk.”
The hypocrisy is unbelievable. Rolling his eyes, “Then what exactly are you doing over here?”
The man shrugs, “Trying, which is more than you’re doing over here alone.”
At that Katsuki bristles. Who the fuck is this guy? “Who the fuck are you?”
“Shouto, I work with Midoriya.”
“So you’re a police officer.”
Shouto’s eyebrow pulls up, “I’d assumed you already knew that.”
“Why the fuck would I know that? Deku’s never mentioned you.”
With a shrug Shouto looks away to study the collage of photo frames above the mantle. The conversation hangs unfinished between them which makes Katsuki uncomfortable. It’s like the world’s dumbest superpower the way he can feel Deku looking at him, likely trying to decide if he should intervene. Katsuki has the sneaking suspicion that Deku coming over is going to piss him off for a reason that’s more related to the lack of alcohol in his body and less related to the intention of Deku’s good deed. That in mind he takes a breath. “Katsuki.”
“Hmm?”
Frowning, “That’s my name, dipshit.”
“Ah. I see.”
Really? That’s all he’s going to say? Katsuki searches his brain for a topic of conversation. It’s strange to realize he hasn’t had a sober conversation with anyone, let alone a sober conversation with a stranger, in a long time. He doesn’t know what to talk about without the familiar thrum of alcohol in his veins.
“You’re in a lot of these pictures.”
Katsuki looks up from where his gaze had landed on the rug. “Huh?”
Shouto nods toward the wall of photos.
“Oh, yeah. I guess.” He’s never really looked at the photos, it’s strange to see a retired version of himself memorialized. As if he’s not a shell of the man on the wall.
“You’ve known them a long time. You’re all quite young in a few of these.”
Clearing his throat. “Yeah, I’ve known Deku since we were five or six so, twenty plus years at this point.” He sips his soda and says more to himself than Shouto, “Holy shit. That’s a long time.”
“And Ochako?”
“Deku met her in high school.”
“Oh, I thought they met in college.”
Katsuki is happy to know their common ground is two of the nicest people that have ever existed. It lessens the chance of the conversation turning hostile, “They met again after high school. She moved away at the end of sophomore year but came back for college.”
“What about you?”
“What about me?” Katsuki is automatically defensive, the warning radiates off of him but Shouto just turns to regard him with an even gaze.
“When did you meet Ochako? The way you speak makes it seem like you met her later.”
He licks his teeth, hesitant in his response, “I met her when I got back from bootcamp.”
“Mmm,” Shouto trills. “Not in high school, then?”
Katsuki always finds himself debating whether or not to even admit he was in the service. People look at him differently when they find out. They ask what he did, where he was stationed, and thank him for his service. The last one gets under his skin. Civilians don’t understand that not everyone wants to talk about their time in the service with reverence. Some of them just want to forget. So, Shouto’s response, that aptly skips over what Katsuki had replied with, catches him off guard.
“I wasn’t exactly friends with Deku in high school.”
“I see.” Shouto takes as much as Katsuki has given and doesn’t ask for him to elaborate.
He feels responsible for carrying the next part of the conversation. “Uh, what about you? How long ago did you meet them?”
Shouto swirls his glass, staring at the deep red of the wine as he thinks. “Three years ago now. Midoriya was my training officer.”
“Huh, joined the force kinda late didn’t you?”
With a shrug and after a sip of wine, “The job I had previously terminated my contract early. With my skill set, law enforcement seemed like a logical leap.”
“What did you do before?”
Before Shouto can even start to answer, “Dinner’s ready.” Ochako sets the roast in the center of the dining table.
Katsuki comes when called and takes a seat left of Ochako and across from where Midoriya sits on her right. Shouto takes a seat next to Katsuki and he finds himself uncomfortably aware of Shouto’s presence. Really though, there are seven other chairs.
When everyone has been fed, Midoriya and Ochako join hands. They stare into each other’s eyes for a disgustingly long time and Katsuki makes a gagging sound. From the corner of his eye he sees Shouto roll his lips together to bite back a smile. He recovers quickly though, the same untelling expression coming back as a default.
Midoriya looks across the table at their guests, only consisting of Katsuki, both their parents, Ochako’s best friend, and Shouto. “Everyone,” the table turns their attention to him. “We want to thank you all for coming tonight. We have some news we wanted to be able to share with some of the most important people in our lives.” With a squeeze of Ochako’s hand she takes over.
“We’re having a baby.”
All at once the table starts talking, both mother’s get up to hug and kiss the lucky couple, Ochako’s best friend cries. A very clear, “You did it, son,” from Midoriya’s step father.
Katsuki leans back in his chair, feeling outside the moment but happy to watch. Next to him he gets the sense Shouto feels the same. A sharp smile comes over his face as he leans over. “Weird how they're throwing a party to celebrate Deku creaming Ochako.”
Shouto’s hand flies to his mouth but the glance he sends towards Katsuki is full of equally brash humor. Leaning into Katsuki’s space, “With how embarrassed the topic of sex makes Midoriya I’m surprised he knows how to put it in.”
At that Katsuki snorts. “Yeah, Ochako is totally a top.”
This draws a choked laugh from Shouto that makes Katsuki sit up a little straighter. This is... well, the guy's company isn’t unpleasant. The conversation they had wasn’t exactly thrilling but it’s been distracting enough to make the intense need for a drink more tolerable. Still, now that dinner is over all he can think about is going home to drink himself into a dreamless sleep.
He waits another twenty minutes before cornering the couple, drawing Ochako into a side hug and bumping his fist with Deku’s as he says his goodbye. Shouto approaches from behind, setting a hand on Deku’s shoulder. “I should take my leave as well. I have to get home to feed Madam.”
“Dog?” Katsuki looks down his nose, the question written on his face.
“Cat.”
Deku cuts in. “Kacchan loves animals! Right?” He turns to Katsuki expectantly.
With a cautious tone Katsuki answers, “I like dogs .”
“Oh, but, uh-” Deku looks between all of them. Leave it to him to make the situation awkward with his sincerity and - oh.
“Yeah,” Katsuki draws out the word. “I’m gonna go. I’ll see you guys soon.”
Behind him Shouto says his goodbye and follows Katsuki out the door to the elevator.
Before they reach the ground floor Shouto turns his body in just enough to show he plans on speaking.
“Not interested,” Katsuki deadpans.
With a tilt of his head, “Not interested in what?”
Katsuki gestures to Shouto as a whole, “Whatever it is Deku thinks you have to offer me.”
Shouto looks away, putting his hands in the pocket of his double breasted coat. When the elevator dings, “I had no intention of offering up anything. I just wanted to thank you for spending a bit of your time with me.”
Shouto exits the elevator leaving Katsuki feeling just mildly mortified by his accusation.
“Hey!” He’s stepping after Shouto and following him out of the lobby before he can think better of it.
The essential stranger spares him a glance over his shoulder but keeps walking resolutely opposite the direction Katsuki intends on going.
“Hey!” He calls again, picking up his pace to walk in time with Shouto. “Don’t ignore me.”
“I’m not.” Shouto’s tone is so unbothered that Katsuki’s irritation doubles in the face of his nonreaction. “What did you have to say?”
They cross the street to a free parking lot where there’s a single car that Katsuki has to assume is Shouto’s. “Just, uh-” Katsuki clenches his jaw. “Same to you.”
“Hmm?” Shouto glances at him.
“For your time,” he forces the words out knowing damn well that Shouto knows exactly what he’s talking about.
“Mmm,” Shouto opens his car door, hangs his arm across the top of it when he meets Katsuki’s eyes. “Not interested.”
Katsuki’s mouth drops open hearing his words thrown back at him. Then fierce embarrassment rushes through him. “I wasn’t offering!” His embarrassment multiplies when Shouto’s mouth pulls up into a smirk. The change in expression is so slight that Katsuki almost misses it. “You’re fucking with me,” he says as the realization dawns on him. He’s left dumb for a moment becuase Shouto seems to have no sense of fear... and he should fear Katsuki, “I should beat your face in, cocksucker!”
Immediate in his response, “I doubt you could.”
Katsuki fills with outrage. How does this guy sound so fucking certain about that? Does this fucker think he’s weak? Stepping in closer to get in Shouto’s face, “You want to test that theory, pig?”
“I think Midoriya would be upset if you got hurt.”
“Like hell you could hurt me! I’ll beat you within an inch of you’re fucking life!”
Shouto looks him up and down as he considers what Katsuki said. “You could try.”
His jaw tenses, “Any time. Any place.”
“If you insist I suppose I can make time. I’m a member at a boxing gym. Does Friday at six work for you?”
“I’ll fucking be there.”
“Excellent. I’ll give details to Midoriya.” With that Shouto taps his door before dropping into the driver seat and pulling the door half closed. “Goodnight, Katsuki.”
Katsuki frowns when Shouto pulls away, feeling strangely like he’s lost at something.
He pulls out his phone and texts Deku.
ur friend’s a piece of shit.