1 Chapter 1

It's the first time Izuku's seen Bakugou in months. In typical Bakugou fashion, it happened in a shocking round of explosions.

Izuku was patrolling his sector of the city, minding his own blessed business, when a solid concrete wall in front of him explodes outwards in a bloom of flame and smoke. Rocketing out of the center of the fire was a familiar blond-haired form. Izuku staggered back, shocked enough that he'd frozen in place, iron-soled boots rooted to the pavement.

In contrast, Bakugou pushes himself further into the air with another explosion, vaulting flawlessly to land on the railing of someone's balcony. Show off. Something slimy and purple and vaguely human-shaped crawled out of the hole Ground Zero had rocketed from. With an audible growl, the other hero lept from the balcony, straight down onto it, arms outstretched.

The resulting explosion left soot five stories up the alleyway on both sides. Still frazzled, Izuku began to run forwards. What had Ground Zero been fighting? Was he okay? Was Izuku's own damn sector okay? His zone required a slightly more subtle touch than the constant explosions Ground Zero tended to provide.

"Ka-Ground Zero!" He shouted, voice coming out high and strained.

It's also the first time he's talked to Bakugou in two years.

After graduating UA, Bakugou had quickly rocketed to popularity. The last few years of school had sanded the cruel edge off of his personality, leaving him just palatable enough to be Japan's favorite bad boy. Bad young man, now, judging by the relatively scandalous "Japan's Hottest Heroes" calendar he'd posed for. Did Izuku own a copy? Of course not, Izuku had a sense of shame. He also had a picture of Bakugou's spread he'd taken covertly with his phone at a stationery shop. Izuku doesn't have quite enough shame, apparently.

Bakugou Katsuki was brash, loud, undeniably hot, unfailingly standoffish and unreachable, and therefore media's reluctant darling. If you didn't love him, you loved to hate him. And he looked good on a front cover. He looked good on anything, in Izuku's opinion, but that was just his long-dead childhood crush speaking. Izuku was older now, at twenty-five, and had spent plenty of time convincing himself out of it. Had he been successful in this? Yes. A definite yes, as long as Bakugou stayed far away from him and out of his life. This was something that had been relatively easy after graduation.

The smoke cleared slowly, dramatically. The subject of Izuku's long-dead childhood crush stepped out of it, cracking his knuckles and surveying the area, likely looking for casualties. Izuku swallowed.

"You're supposed to look for bystanders before you explode things Kach-Ground Zero," he called.

Bakugou's head rolled towards him, lazy and amused. "You count yourself as a bystander, nerd?"

"At least you've stopped shouting, 'Now Die,' whenever you do anything," Izuku said, ignoring his question. He'd learned it was better to sidestep Bakugou's jabs then meet them head on.

To his surprise, Bakugou scratched his head. "I did actually check, idiot. Fucking wasn't supposed to be anyone here."

Izuku wasn't sure what to say. He'd lost the ability to speak normally to Bakugou after their second year at UA, when Bakugou had inexplicably stopped being a massive dickhole to him. Instead of being rivals, they'd become nothing. The silence stretched.

"Could've hurt you," Bakugou grumbled. Izuku didn't know if he was insulting him or being remorseful. He was surprised by how much the awkwardness hurt. His old friend looked different, he realized. Older. Outside of magazines and TV, the difference was more obvious. His hair was shorter, face sharper, and his hero costume had been altered. Still ridiculous and over the top, but undeniably sleeker.

"What are you doing here?" Izuku blurted. Bakugou blinked. Awkwardness stole another few seconds before Bakugou's natural temper set in. He gestured behind him wildly, arm flexing in a way Izuku studiously ignored.

"Kicking ass?" He said, a little loudly. "Want me to let my shitty villains run all over your sector just so you don't have to see me?"

Izuku found himself laughing. "You can just give me a heads up like everyone else," he said, good nature returning. That's right. Bakugou was just another pro hero, working like everyone else did. He could handle this situation. "This area's my responsibility, I'm happy to come help. And keep the property damage down," he found himself adding.

Bakugou eyed him suspiciously. "Were you always such a smartass?"

"I know when it's appropriate and when it's not," Izuku said, folding his hands behind his head. For once, he was enjoying the interaction with his old friend. He hadn't talked to him so long… but more to the point, he hadn't talked to Bakugou since he'd grown some self-respect. The other man was a lot less intimidating now that Izuku wasn't afraid of his own shadow.

His self-assuredness lasted exactly as long as it took Bakugou to stalk into his personal space, spelling like smoke and nitroglycerin. Bakugou's red eyes were narrowed, a faint sneer on his face. "You're different, Midoriya."

"Midoriya?" Izuku yelped reflexively, cheeks red. Bakugou didn't use his name. Any of his names. Even his hero name, he'd always said with disdain. Bakugou's frown lifted.

"But not too different."

Not too different? Izuku didn't know what on earth that meant. He did know that Bakugou's closeness and the smell of smoke was doing things to his knees. Up close, he could see how the sun hitting Bakugou's eyes made them warm to a shade of amber, and how he actually had a faint, faint dusting of freckles across his nose. Izuku swallowed his damn inconvenient libido and stared over his old friend's muscular shoulder.

Not moving away, Bakugo pulled out his tablet and began logging his take down, a process Izuku was all too familiar with. Izuku tried to wrap his head around the strange encounter. Apparently, it had just been a matter of time before Ground Zero turned up in his sector, and if it just happened to be when Izuku was nearby, well that wasn't too big of a coincidence. After all, if Bakugou hadn't been logging the times he'd crossed sectors, it might not even be the first time, and…

"You still mutter like a freak," Bakugou said, grinning like he'd won a prize. For Bakugou, that didn't mean a nice grin. Shaken out of his thoughts, Izuku stared up blankly for a moment. All he knew in that moment was that if Bakugou walked out of his life now, he didn't want to wait another two years to talk to him again. Better not to let him walk away. Good thing Izuku had spent the last eight years growing a spine.

If Bakugou had always been reckless, Izuku had always been impulsive to match. "Let's go out sometime," he said, staring into those red eyes.

Bakugou stopped his tablet straight onto the pavement.

"To catch up," Izuku added, bending to pick up the tablet. Its screen had cracked in several places. He looked up to apologize, and realized Bakugou was still standing there, hand outstretched, dumbfounded. Then he recovered himself.

"What the fuck," he shouted, snatching the tablet back. Izuku flushed, suddenly embarrassed. He hadn't asked Bakugou to hang out before. Well, not since 6th grade, when the other boy had forcibly shoved his face into a mud puddle for asking. Annoyed by the memory, Izuku crossed his arms.

"Take it or leave it, Lord Explodo Murder," he said quickly, before he chickened out. He would not be intimidated. He would not. Not even by burning eyes and sinfully defined biceps.

"Eh?" Bakugou was nearly shouting. "You!" Then he slapped a hand over his mouth. Izuku watched in amazement as the man reigned in his temper, right before his eyes. After a moment, the hand dropped. Bakugou pocketed the tablet, shoving his hands in the pockets of his baggy shorts. "Sure," he said, finally.

Izuku nearly dropped dead. Sure. Sure? Bakugou said 'Sure?' Since when?

"I'll see you later then," he blurted, and bolted, leaving a puzzled Bakugou in the distance.

Thanks to Full Cowling, he made it to the other side of his sector in a matter of minutes. When was the last time he'd run that fast?

Bakugou Katsuki. His childhood best friend, elementary school tormentor, high school rival. Adult nothing. Bakugou Katsuki had said, 'Sure.'

**time skip**

Midoriya bolted like a frightened gazelle. Katsuki was left staring after him dumbly. What had just happened?

Then the press descended. Experienced in this, Katsuki gave them routine answers, only floundering when they asked where Deku had gone. Fuck if Katsuki knew. In his head, a subconscious chant was starting to repeat, going something like, 'what the fuck, what the fuck, what the fuck, what the fuck-"

Katsuki made it all the way back to his flat before blue-screening. He slammed and locked the door behind him. "Want to go out with me?" He half-shrieked, the sound echoing around his empty apartment. His voice dropped to a whisper.

"Deku, what the fuck."

He stormed over to the kitchen, and grabbed a kiwi from a fruit bowl his mother had left. He needed a snack. A small, green-haired snack that had not asked him out. "What the actual fuck, Deku," he muttered, staring at the kiwi. The kiwi was placed back into the bowl. Gently.

The couch was Katsuki's next victim, as he threw himself onto it. "Oh yes," he snapped, glaring at the ceiling. "Don't talk to me for years, don't even look at me for longer. Then ask me the fuck out, why don't you?"

The empty flat did not reply, but the ficus in the corner had the grace to look intimidated. Katsuki sighed, letting his anger drain away. Maybe anger was the wrong word. His anger management counselor had always been on him about naming and acknowledging his emotions. He wasn't angry. He was frustrated. He was confused. He was also guilty, a life-long guilt leftover from endless cruelty to someone so important to him.

He'd never forget that day, even if Deku apparently had. He hugged a pillow, remembering it. Even now, it made him blush.

They'd been about to start their third year, and Electroboy had thrown a party to start the year off right. Katsuki had just discovered Fireball, and was determined to make it his best friend. Drinking a fifth of Fireball had not been a good idea, but he'd done it anyway. Gods above knew why he'd thought kissing Deku was a good idea, but he'd goddamn tried it anyway.

Katsuki stared at the ceiling, feeling tired. He'd gone over this a million times in his head already. Leaving out the travesty of kissing his unrequited love with Fireball-breath, the whole kissing-after-years-of-assholery had taken the cake.

God bless Deku, who'd shoved him away with a shout. It had felt like Deku had just shoved a hole straight through his goddamn heart. Then he'd realized Deku hadn't been standing quietly in the corner because he was sober. No, it was because he was smashed, and Deku had unleashed years and years of pent of frustration and hurt.

Katsuki's counselor, mandatory back then, had looked like she'd wanted to smack him when he told her. Apparently you're not supposed to go trying to kiss people you've been a shithole to. You're supposed to leave them in peace to heal at their own peace, or do whatever the fuck they ask of you. He'd never forget what Deku said. Leave me alone and don't bother me ever again. So Bakugou would do just that.

They were clear enough instructions. Less clear afterward, when Deku kept exchanging small pleasantries. The faint hello, the concern after a hard fight… Katsuki had acknowledged them all, with as little unpleasantness as he could manage. But they'd remained distant. It killed him to realize that maybe without all the toxic anger, they'd had nothing left.

Nothing until now. Katsuki wasn't going to fuck this up like last time, damn it. He'd had many long years to reflect on his behavior. After graduating, he'd launched straight into the pro hero world, hands blazing, refusing to watch what Deku did. Well, trying to. It was impossible to overlook Deku, the idiot's face was plastered over everything.

Fucking Deku. The sweetheart of Japan, saving everyone with a smile, making hero work look goddamn effortless. Everyone liked him. Everyone loved him. He was impossible to ignore, and Katsuki had felt strangely proud watching Deku grow into his role. But as time passed, he seemed more and more out of reach. They talked sometimes, at class reunions, interviews, post-disaster debriefs. Never more than was necessary, than was polite.

Katsuki had gotten over his crush ages ago, but he'd never really gotten over losing his childhood best friend. That ache refused to leave his chest. If this was Deku finally giving him a second chance, then Katsuki wouldn't fuck it up.

He was Ground Zero. He was one of Japan's top heroes. He could barely step outside without being swarmed by fans. He could level a city block with one palm. One tiny, green-haired soft little man wasn't going to take him down. Right?