Chapter Text
The hallway outside of his PR manager’s office feels like an ER waiting room. The similarities don’t stop at the eggshell white walls or the plastic flowers or the retired torture devices that now serve as chairs. It’s the energy. Something very good or very bad is always happening in that room.
Usually bad.
The door opens a crack, interrupting his train of thought. It runs off the rails instead, careening into a lake. Hinata-san looks at him, nodding with a neutral face. He stands to greet her placidly, accepting his imminent death as he closes the door behind them.
“Midoriya-san,” she says, making her way around her desk. It’s covered in papers and the world’s hardest working pair of monitors. “Have a seat.”
He has a seat.
Hinata-san opens her mouth before closing it again. Her brow furrows, eyes darting between him and a little stack of papers.
Izuku sits calmly. His impending termination leaves him numb.
“You aren’t in trouble,” she says with no conviction. She holds up a hand, doing a second take. “I mean. Your personal life is not technically under the agency’s jurisdiction, when it doesn’t relate to anything involving your hero persona.”
Technically.
“However,” she continues slowly, flipping through the papers without reading them. “This does involve your professional social media presence. And the agency is--” She grimaces, swallows, tries again. “--is concerned if news were to also get out about your personal, ah. Internet? Habits.”
Like his search history and stuff? Izuku will never give the IT crew dessert ever again. To think he shared those little Baumkuchen from the bakery near his mother’s apartment. This sort of betrayal is so outrageous, it’s the stuff of classic literature and high-drama plays. Callousness of inhumane proportions.
Hinata-san shuffles through the papers. “You’re not in trouble.” She picks out a particular page, flapping it in front of her before setting it down. “I’m just here to ask you to be a bit more, ah. Discreet, Midoriya-san. Please. You haven’t violated any contracts with the agency concerning Internet use or browsing material. It’s more so your…online presence.”
So it really is just about his accounts. He guesses IT is spared from his cold wrath for another day.
“You are, of course, entitled to…personal…time online at your leisure, as an individual. I understand you are deeply involved with the hero fandom, after all.”
Ah. He’s starting to piece it together, now.
“However, as your Public Relations Manager, I strongly suggest that you don’t associate your professional name or face with any of your… Um…”
“My fandom accounts,” he supplies glumly.
Hinata-san looks up, almost startled. “--Ah. Sure. We’ll call it that. For the sake of discussion.”
It was one cosplay. Well, costest. And yes, that makes sense. Totally. It makes absolute sense why that would be dissuaded. He can’t see why they’re having a meeting about it, though. Meetings are serious. Meetings like this, with the door closed, are confidential-level serious.
“I won’t cosplay again,” he promises. “But ah. I don’t associate any of my personal accounts with my professional… I mean, you know that. Since you run a lot of my professional stuff.”
“I run all of your professional accounts, Midoriya-san,” Hinata-san says and she looks so tired. “Which I’m happy to do. It’s my job. And of course your approved posts are fine, too. That isn’t-– I’m not talking about what you post, Midoriya-san.”
“Okay.”
“I’m talking about your browsing–- Midoriya-san, I’m talking about the blogs that you follow.”
He blinks.
“You mistakenly followed a blog with your professional account–-don’t worry, I removed it very quickly–-but it lead to an inspection of the quality of the…content you follow on your personal account.”
“Okay,” he says slowly. He tries to remember accidentally following any objectionable content, mistakenly or otherwise, and comes up empty.
“Which lead to a discussion about your personal account, which is widely known in some circles to be associated with you. Which lead to a discovery of a particularly uncomfortable trend in your following habits. Which includes the blog you mistakenly followed on your professional account. …Which you also follow on your personal.”
“Like a hero fanblog?” he asks. “I follow those all the time. But if it’s one I shouldn’t have followed, well… I don’t know how I could have messed up, but I’m very sorry.”
Hinata-san looks at him. She blinks with the heavy eyelids of someone bearing a burden too great to carry alone. “A sort of hero fanblog,” she says. “I know you follow some accounts with your official unofficial, which is fine. It’s good for optics. This one wasn’t. In fact, many of them are…questionable. At best.”
“What blog?” he asks, scouring his brain for any not-optically-good (unoptical? opticalless?) blogs that he’s ever followed. He comes up empty. They’re all great.
Hinata-san sighs, sliding the paper across the table.
On it, a blog name and handle are listed, along with a screenshot of Izuku’s “official unofficial” account’s following list. He hums, picking up the piece of paper.
He frowns, cocking his head. He knows this blog. It has some really cool shots of Dynamight on it. Some of the best curation around, actually. Kacchan always looks cool, of course, but this blog goes out of its way to avoid blurry shots or bad angles, stuff that lesser blogs will still post for completion’s sake. No. This blog is an archive of Dynamight photos. The best of the best. Categorized appropriately, too, by defining features of each shot.
“I don’t get it,” he confesses, setting the paper back down.
Hinata-san looks haggard. “Midoriya-san. The blog is called Dynamight Tits and Bussy Pics.”
“Ah. Yeah.”
“And it’s full of... what the title suggests.”
“Mm.” Well, yeah. Now that he thinks about it, sure. But Kacchan’s pecs and ass are always present, right? They’re literally attached to him.
Hinata-san drags the paper back to her. Then she rests her head in her hands.
“It has some cool pictures of Kacchan,” he supplies, feeling a need to explain himself. “And people use all sorts of ironic names online. I should have known better than to have a name like that associated with the professional account, though. You’re right.”
She burrows her face into her palms.
“Really the best Kacchan photo blog online,” he murmurs to himself. “Like...a curated archive of his coolest pictures.”
“This isn’t the only one.” Her voice is muffled. “Dynamight Smiling. Dynamight In Shorts. Cute Dynamight Pics Unlimited. Dynamight Back Shots. Sweaty Dynamight--”
“O-okay. Okay.” He cringes at the list of names that he recognizes. He hadn’t really given them much thought, but now that he’s considering it, they are a bit inappropriate.
“Like I said.” Her voice is ragged. “You aren’t in trouble. But this is a two-strike policy. Leave following habits like that to your more...discreet blogs. Things that can’t be traced back to you, even by your Internet sleuth fans.”
“Oh. Uh. Okay…”
“And outside of the optics.” She lifts her head, hair clinging to her weary eyes. “From an HR perspective: You really should not be publicly browsing and interacting with...suggestive blogs about your coworker and hero partner.” She takes a slow breath, eyes sliding shut. “Please.”
Izuku shifts in his chair, feeling guilty but not sure why. He didn’t mean to hurt Hinata-san like this. He never does, though. It just sort of happens. He should lobby for her to get a raise. Tanaka-san, Kacchan’s PR agent, got one, after all. So he says, “I’m sorry, Hinata-san. I’ll ask them to give you a raise.”
She groans. “Just stop doing things like this.”
“Ah. Doing what?”
“Nothing. That was unprofessional. Please excuse me, Midoriya-san. The meeting is concluded. You can leave.”
He rises out of the chair half-way, pausing. “I mean. You removed the follow. And the other follow list is just on my personal account. So it’s not like anyone noticed.”
Hinata-san stares back at him, haggard. “Midoriya-san,” she says, “you’re the third-ranked hero. People noticed.”
So Izuku follows fanblogs of Great Explosion Murder God Dynamight. Big deal. Kacchan is the very essence of cool and he always has been in Izuku’s starry-eyed gaze. Isn’t he allowed to be excited that so many people see what he’s always seen?
For so long, he’d been in a fandom of one. Now he’s one of thousands. Millions? It’s got to be millions now, right? Kacchan doesn’t score the best in general popularity rankings, but among niche areas he is indomitable. He’s got that bad boy aesthetic that’s painfully genuine. Tokoyami and Todoroki have the more mild-mannered bad boy market cornered, but Kacchan has a total monopoly on the real bad boy market.
Ugh, he’s so cool. The coolest.
dynamights jockstrap @dynadiss • Nov 2
omfg did you see that fight in shibuya??? dynamight and deku got so sweaty. dynamight looked like he’s just gone swimming (≧◡≦) ♡ AAAAAA
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call me sebun ! ! @se7unalways • Nov 2
right??? I think you can see his underwear line in one of the photos!
And it’s not like he doesn’t follow other hero fanblogs. Of course he keeps up with the Number Two religiously as well--Suneater has really come into his own and he deserves the attention. And, of course, there’s All Might. All Might is the best of the best, Izuku’s Favorite of Favorites. Needless to say, he follows more than his fair share of All Might blogs and still runs the same blog he’s been running since junior high. He doesn’t have as much time to dedicate to it, anymore, but he still manages to update around once a month.
Kacchan is special, too, for the same reason. Izuku has been following him for longer than he can remember. And as an adult, he’s truly blossomed into an amazing hero. Kacchan didn’t get to Number Eight with any cheap PR tricks; the deck was certainly stacked against him and Tanaka-san in that regard. No, he got to Number Eight through sheer ability and determination. Kacchan is a winner who saves.
So yeah. Izuku is totally comfortable following Dynamight fanblogs. He’s a fan. That’s what fans do. And he still gets a thrill looking at discourse or photos and silently shouting I know him! while shoving his face into the nearest pillow on his bed because he’s so overwhelmed that this is real. This is the world he occupies.
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izuku (˃ᆺ˂) @izukkun_is_here • Nov 2
Which photo?
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dynamights jockstrap @dynadiss • Nov 2
I think she means this one [ link ]
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izuku (˃ᆺ˂) @izukkun_is_here • Nov 2
Awesome, thanks!! ( * ▽ * )
And every day, he’s so grateful to be in it.
He’s on unofficial probation. No one’s said anything, but it’s pretty obvious once he gets his schedule. It is distinctly Kacchanless. All solo outings or partnerships with some awesome heroes like Red Riot or Tsukuyomi. But no Kacchan. Usually, Kacchan and he have synced lunches at the very least, but even those are gone. Kacchan is working a lot of morning shifts; Izuku’s doing night shifts almost exclusively. On one level, at least, it’s a nice change of pace. He hasn’t had much time to catch up with a lot of his former classmates.
Which is how he finds himself enjoying a dubiously pleasant 12am lunch with Kirishima and Kaminari.
“You’re still alive,” is how Kaminari greets him, fistbumping him as he sits down beside them on the roof of a soon-to-be demolished apartment complex. He fistbumps his unsuspecting, limp hand, though, so it comes across more as Kaminari attempting to weakly punch his arm.
“I… Yes?” he replies, only slightly confused. In their line of work, especially with Izuku’s particular habits, it’s a fair thing to congratulate him on. But all the same. Unexpected. He shifts a little, trying to discreetly pick at his wedgie. His costume’s been especially irritating for a few months, now.
Kirishima shakes his head, offering a small smile. “Great to see you, man.”
He perks up at that. “Ah! Yeah, same. It’s been a while, Kirishima-kun. How’s it been in Shibuya?”
“It’s going really well! How’ve you and–-” He stops. “Uh. How’ve you been?”
“Okay!” he chirps. Because he has been. Really. Not great, no, but he’s living his best possible life and he’s very aware of this fact.
“Let’s not beat around the Bakugou-shaped bush,” Kaminari says as Izuku unboxes his bento composed of protein bars and some limp kale. “Kacchan won’t talk about it, but I know you’ll blab. How mad is he?”
“Dude,” Kirishima hisses. “Bakugou doesn't know.”
“Oh,” Kaminari says dumbly. Then, “Wait, how could he not know? It’s all over the web!”
“What’s all over the web?” Izuku asks, dread sinking in his stomach. A familiar sensation, a well-traveled path through his intestine that has been memorized since early childhood.
“Your, you know.” Kaminari then proceeds to make extremely exaggerated kissing(?) sounds, which is not illuminating at all. “With Kacchan. The fan blogs you follow.”
Ah. “So you guys know about my personal blog, too?”
Kirishima and Kaminari swap knowing looks. “Didn’t need a blog, dude,” Kirishima says after a moment, sheepish. “But, uh. No. Your official followed a blog that has, uh–-”
“Dynamight ass pics,” Kaminari completes, sounding entirely too smug.
“I… Yeah. That,” Kirishima says lamely.
“Sorry–- Ass and tit pics. My bad.”
“Dude, just stop.”
Izuku sits between them, slowly digesting this information. “How many people know?”
“Everyone,” Kaminari replies.
“I–- Not everyone,” Kirishima says.
“Right, Baku-chan apparently doesn’t,” he corrects hastily. “That explains why he was so meh about it. Wouldn’t crack under my expert interrogation skills.”
“That makes sense,” Izuku observes, forcing his heart to sit calmly in his chest. “Kacchan doesn’t engage with social media at all, except for some blogs about bonsai care.”
“The hell? Kacchan likes bonsai?”
“His therapist suggested it would be good for his anger management. –-I shouldn’t have said that, should I? That sounds personal…”
Kaminari shakes his head. “No, no, no. Spill all the beans, Midoriya-kun. Please.”
This is lost on Izuku, though, because very suddenly and very apparently his brain has decided to light up with a very obvious realization. “Kacchan is going to find out, though.”
“I mean… Probably.”
He swallows. “It’s–- I mean, he shouldn’t have a problem with it, right? It was just PR being cautious.” But then again, this is Kacchan they’re talking about. His primary external emotion is anger at everything. Especially when it relates to any attempt on Izuku’s part to get closer to him. Even if he’s gotten better in recent years, he’s still prickly about any overtures.
“Dude,” Kirishima says with sympathy, patting at his shoulder gently like he’s handling a splintered antique, “Bakugou’s not gonna be happy if he finds out you, uh.”
“Follow fan blogs of him?” Izuku asks, miserable. Because how is that wrong? Izuku is a fan! He’s his first fan. The idea that Kacchan can’t even stand him watching from a distance anymore is just...
“Thirst blogs,” Kaminari corrects, face grim. “Bakugou-kun is gonna kill you, Midoriya-kun.”
izuku (˃ᆺ˂) @izukkun_is_here • Nov 5
Okay, this is kind of a weird question, but… What’s a thirst blog?
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hina <3 @nakaneim • Nov 5
it’s like a blog about a person you think is hot where you post hot pics
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Nyatta Nyan Nyan @nyaniro • Nov 5
yeah it’s a blog or post dedicated to someone you think is attractive
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Riotfan @riotredfan • Nov 5
Is this about your Dynamight shot compilation? They’re good shots. Haters gonna hate…
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izuku (˃ᆺ˂) @izukkun_is_here • Nov 5
Thanks! And kind of. Someone told me I follow a bunch of “thirst blogs” about Dynamight.
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gedanken @10001nene • Nov 5
i mean… u have posted about his butt sweat in excruciating detail before…
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izuku (˃ᆺ˂) @izukkun_is_here • Nov 5
I was wondering how it affects his quirk!!! But point taken.
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dynamights jockstrap @dynadiss • Nov 5
shine on, you crazy bastard.
So, okay. By definition, what is a “““thirst blog””” anyway? How is that different from any other typical fan blog? Objectively speaking, the content is mostly the same. Photo-wise. Photo-wise, all fan blogs are working with the same content. So what differentiates a thirst blog, if such a thing even exists?
Well, the wider Internet refers to a thirst blog as a blog dedicated to a person you find particularly attractive, where you may share suggestive comments or desires. And yes, this includes posting about someone’s butt sweat, apparently.
By Kaminari’s definition, a thirst blog has “unrestrained, unhinged horny energy.”
Kirishima declined to provide an assessment.
So those are the perspectives Izuku has to work with. He grapples with them as best as he knows how: he opens up his current journal and creates a dubiously labeled FOR and AGAINST table to list his thoughts.
FOR: Yes, I find Kacchan attractive.
AGAINST: Kacchan is objectively attractive. That would make any blog about him, by extension, a thirst blog.
FOR: Yes, I’d like to have physical relations with Kacchan. (He’s my best friend!)
AGAINST: I’ve wanted to hold Kacchan’s hand since I realized we both have hands. (Duh, Kacchan is my best friend!!!) This isn’t purely physical; I’m incredibly interested in Kacchan! And his hands! And his mouth! And his butt! (Best! Friend!!!)
AGAINST: (2) ALSO, I mostly follow blogs that talk about quirk theory and blogs that are interested in Kacchan’s career. A lot of the blogs that post pictures are also interested in Kacchan’s abilities and career!
FOR: Some of the blogs I follow say questionable things.
AGAINST: Define questionable.
FOR: Some of the blogs I follow talk about Kacchan’s private parts.
AGAINST: Inappropriate, but he’s a public figure. Also, see the first AGAINST on this list.
FOR: No, now that I think about it, some of it is pretty focused on his private parts. Like they crop his photos or zoom in.
AGAINST: I hate it when they crop photos. They have less Kacchan in their pictures!!
He taps his pencil against his chin, considering. He could go on for longer, as he always can when it comes to Kacchan, but this seems sufficient to settle his internal debate.
“Arguably,” he decides, “I follow some Kacchan thirst blogs. But I think most are just fan blogs. A-and I have mostly pure intentions when it comes to Kacchan!” Mostly, yes. He’s never going to claim to have nothing but pure intentions; their history is too complicated for that. But he really does admire Kacchan, always has, and wants the best for him.
That’s true. He does want what’s best for Kacchan. Above almost everything else, excluding duty to the greater good. Kacchan is his top priority.
Kacchan is his best friend. And Izuku has always had very intense interests in things important to him. This doesn’t seem abnormal at all.
…But what if Kacchan thinks it’s too weird?
Thinks he’s too weird?
It’s a very real possibility. There are many times where Kacchan has thought he’s too weird. There have been times where their friendship has fractured over it.
The thought of Kacchan fisting his shirt and slamming him into the wall, lips curled into a disgusted sneer does things to him. Kacchan looming over him, eyes narrowed. He’d say something like, “Fucking Deku, what kind of fucking pervert are you?” And he’d crowd him against the wall, hot and solid and–-
No. No, he wouldn’t say that. He’d say something like, “I hate you.”
Anxiety flutters in Izuku’s throat at the image. He feels as small and frail as he did as a kid for a moment, curling inward like a wilting flower. It was never like it is in his imagination. Kacchan bullying him, he means. It was always painful and degrading and the gaping pit of loneliness that would open like a hungry maw in his stomach whenever he saw Kacchan with his…his friends felt horrible enough to kill Izuku.
“I can’t,” he whispers to himself. His fingers creep up to his hair, fisting the tangled strands. “Kacchan can’t know. I have to stay friends with Kacchan. I have to. I can’t go back.”
Kacchan can’t know. Under any circumstances.
He has to protect what he has with Kacchan. He has to preserve it from everything, including–-especially-–himself.
The thought leaves him a little cold, a lot ashamed. But his resolve is steeled. He is going to be normal around Kacchan when they next encounter each other. He is going to be so normal that Kacchan will never hate him ever again.
“Izuku,” Kacchan greets him in the reception room.
“Ka-chan!” he manages, voice high and strangled, clenching his fists so hard his early onset arthritis starts pulsing.
Kacchan scowls in response, folding his arms over his chest.
Izuku makes it a point not to look at the crease that forms in the center of his cotton blend shirt. He settles his eyes very normally (he’s normal right now) on the juncture between Kacchan’s jaw and his neck. “U-um. I don’t think we’re supposed to see each other. I mean, your shift! It’s…not right now. You should be, uh, home, Kacchan.”
“Izuku.”
He drags his eyes to take in the rest of Kacchan. He’s folded his arms tighter, face crinkled with irritation. His shirt is very tight.
“I don’t know what the hell is going on, so just fuckin’ tell me. You’ve been avoiding me. Why?”
He blinks. “I haven’t been avoiding you, Kacchan.”
Kacchan narrows his eyes.
Izuku raises his hands. “I-I would never avoid Kacchan! We’ve been placed on different shift schedules.”
“Bull.”
“When have I ever avoided you?”
He takes pause at that, lips screwing to the side as he considers the question. Not for too long. Kacchan is very smart, after all. “You’re attached to me like a leech,” he says begrudgingly. The prospect of Izuku being right about something is, as always, distasteful to him.
“Yeah, just like a leech,” he agrees, nodding.
Kacchan looks to the side, frowning. He’s steeling himself. Then he looks up, right into Izuku’s eyes. “Lunch. Now.”
“Okay,” he squeaks.
“You eat like shit.”
He frowns, taking a small bite from his protein bar. “I eat all my macros, Kacchan.”
Kacchan glances at him. “All you eat are shitty protein bars and vegetable smoothies.”
“Yup, those give me my macros.”
Kacchan reaches across the table and rips the protein bar from his hand, the wrapper crinkling. He tosses it behind his back and it lands right in the trash bin, which would be really cool except that that’s Izuku’s breakfast. And his macros.
“My macros, Kacchan!” he cries.
“Your macros can shove it.” He rolls his eyes, placing an untouched, homemade bento onto the table. “Eat this.”
Izuku stares. “Kacchan’s bento?” Wait–- No. Kacchan is eating his bento. “Kacchan made a second bento? I don’t want to eat his dinner.” Wait–- No. This is Kacchan’s dinner. Morning shift.
“I just had it lying around,” Kacchan sneers. “Don’t think about it so hard; your brain’ll melt under all that hair.”
He narrows his eyes, considering the bento. A nice cloth napkin is wrapped around it, complete with a container for travel chopsticks and spoon. Kacchan usually doesn’t wrap up his bentos; he just stacks the containers and shoves them in the back of the fridge with a threatening note on the top. EAT THIS AND YOU DIE is the typical missive.
“Just fuckin’ eat it, Izuku.”
His hands grab the bento before he fully registers Kacchan’s words, sliding it toward his chest. Unwraps it as delicately as his numb, thick fingers will allow.
Rice and tamagoyaki. Breakfast food. Kacchan likes breakfast for dinner? That’s very unexpected. Izuku will need to make a note of this.
“Fucking hell, just eat it.”
It’s good.
“Don’t fucking cry all over it!”
“I can’t help it,” he blubbers. “Kacchan’s cooking is so good!”
Kacchan scoffs. “Fucking stupid that they’re putting us on opposite shifts. We’re partners.”
“No’ par’ners,” he corrects, chewing.
“Don’t talk with your mouth full, you savage bastard.”
“You di’n’ wan’ ‘o sign, reme’ber?”
“Chew. With your. Fucking. Mouth. Closed.”
Izuku chews.
Kacchan taps at the table, eyes darting to the side. “Yeah, well, I didn’t want to sign any bullshit partnership contracts when we were starting. That’s called being smart, dumbass. Not that you’d know anything about that.”
Well. He’s not wrong, when it comes to Kacchan. When it comes to Kacchan, Izuku can unfortunately be outstandingly stupid. He shoves some more egg into his mouth, taking care to chew slowly.
Kacchan is oddly quiet, face smoothing out and then scrunching up again. He’s thinking about something. “You’re a…a good guy,” he says after a moment, oozing awkwardness.
“Mm?” Izuku swallows. “Are you okay, Kacchan?”
His face twists. “The fuck does that mean? Of course I’m okay, fucking idiot!”
Ah. That’s better.
Kacchan groans. “Izuku,” he says, face pressed into his knuckles.
“Mmhm, Kacchan?”
“Anybody give you hell recently?”
His performance has been pretty alright, all around. A bit slower in some aspects, but that’s to be expected when he’s so distracted over the whole Kacchan situation. “Um. Not really. Well-– Maybe you saw her on the report radar, Twister? She was a bit tricky to handle without causing collateral, but Tokoyami and I managed to diffuse the situation pretty well, I think.”
“No piece of shit reporters going after you?”
He blinks. “Uh… No?” Shockingly. Maybe that’s part of the reason he’s on night shift. Hinata-san is a strategic genius. She definitely deserves a raise. “I mean, I just kinda bounce when they’re around, lately…”
“Right,” Kacchan says.
“A-anything new with you, Kacchan? Since we’re on different shifts, now! I miss you, you know.”
He rolls his eyes. “Not much. Got an offer for some promotional deal, not sure if I wanna take it. Fighting with my dumbass PR manager over it. He knows I don’t do fucking photos.”
Photos. Photos of Kacchan. A rare and prized commodity. Izuku’s heart thunders in his chest. “O-oh. You should definitely take it! It’s good for your branding!”
Kacchan arches a brow. “Yeah? Why don’t you do photoshoots, then?”
“I do some! I mean, a few…” Hardly any. “I-I’m not photogenic like Kacchan.”
A silence settles over them at that. Did Izuku say something wrong?
Kacchan opens his mouth, but he hesitates. He looks like he wants to say something. Like he wants to talk about something.
Fuck.
Does he know? Does he know about the Dynamight Tits and Bussy blog?
Fuck.
“U-uh, by the way, Kacchan,” Izuku blurts, reaching for something normal, for a normal topic, “I’ve gotta get my costume re-adjusted. Do you have any pointers?”
His face twists in confusion. “The fuck kinda pointers would I have? I don’t give a shit about clothing. What the hell do you need adjusted, anyways?”
“Fabric keeps bunching at the back.” He shoves another chunk of egg into his mouth. “Keepf gettin’ pinch’d.”
“I fucking told you-– Stop talking with your mouth open, you gross piece of shit. And I don’t know shit about costume adjustments. Don’t ask me about your damn wedgie.”
Izuku chews slowly.
Kacchan’s eyes rake over his body, stymied by the table. They hesitate there, though, as if considering. “…You, uh. Wear a cup, right?”
He swallows. “Usually. Why?”
Kacchan is quiet for a moment. “You ever consider not?”
He blinks. “Wh-why wouldn’t I wear a protective cup? My, uh. Area could get hurt. And I paid really good money for it!”
Kacchan is still staring at that spot. “You model clothes with it on, don’t you?”
Izuku laughs, startled. What does this have to do with his hero suit? “I’ve only modeled clothes, like, twice ever, Kacchan. Not everyone’s as handsome as you. Uh. A-and that was before, you know, I had my surgeries, so. I was kinda insecure, I guess, didn’t want my packing to look weird or disproportionate or… Oh man, you definitely don’t want to hear that kind of TMI, my bad. It’s just how I am, you know my mouth, can’t turn it off, and I’m doing it again, aren’t I? Haha, uh oh, this is-–”
“You ever think about modeling clothes or some shit?” Kacchan asks gruffly. “Now, I mean. If you’re comfortable with it.”
“Uh. Never thought about it, to be honest. I’m a hero first, right? That’s my job. And like I said, I’m not…uh. Not really known for my physical appeal.” This is a really weird line of questioning. What does this have to do with his costume? Does Kacchan think the cup is the issue with the pinching? Maybe it’s doing something with the fabric and giving him a wedgie. It never gave him trouble before, though. He knows Kacchan wears a cup, and he’s had the proper equipment to go with it for much longer, so maybe he knows something Izuku doesn’t.
Kacchan looks pensive. He doesn’t say anything else, though.
Izuku continues to wolf down his perfect food, content with the silence.
He’s always content with Kacchan.