Warmth caressed Izuku's torso in slow, soft sweeps. A familiar scent roused his senses, a soothing spicy musk and the crackling, comforting smoke of a fireplace. Izuku snuggled back into it, heat pooling low in his belly as that tender touch lazily travelled from ribcage, to stomach, to the low waist of his pants, back up, and down.
Murmuring his pleasure, Izuku rolled onto his back, his hands reaching above his head in a long, languid stretch. Sleepily blinking into the morning light, Izuku aimed a wide, dazed smile up at Kacchan.
"Kacchan?" Izuku nearly shrieked, shooting up in bed and smashed his forehead into Kacchan's.
"Motherfucker!" Kacchan toppled back onto his ass – why the hell was he looming over Izuku in the first place? – and sat crossed-legged on the rumpled bed, clutching his head with on hand and glowering. Izuku could practically see the flames light in his eyes. "What the hell is wrong with you, stupid Deku?"
"M-me?" Izuku said incredulously, checking his hand for blood and thankful to find none. They'd both have bruises, though. "Why are you in my bed?"
"You invited me into your shitty bed, idiot! Fuck." Kacchan checked his own head for blood, and coming up with nothing, fisted his hands in the blanket as he eyed Izuku. "You don't remember?"
"What're you –" Izuku paused, a pout forming on his lips, gaze lowering to the plaid patterned blanket as he waded through the thick haze of the previous night. He ran a hand through his disheveled fluff of curls, his fingers getting caught in knots, his hand stuck until he yanked it ruthlessly out and looked up with wide eyes and parted lips. "Oh no. Oh dear. I thought that – I didn't realize – it wasn't a dream?"
"What the fuck are you talking about?" Kacchan said, shooting daggers across the bed, his cheeks going pink. "When the hell would I ever get into this tiny, crappy bed unless you asked me to?"
Izuku blinked, his entire face flaming up.
"That's – well, uh. Thanks for respecting my privacy?"
"Oh my god, just stab me in the fuckin' brain already," Kacchan said, raking his hand down his face. "I'm going."
"Wait – wait!" Izuku followed instinct and lunged across the bed, inadvertently knocking Kacchan back and straddling his thighs.
Kacchan's face went about as red as his eyes.
"What? Get the fuck off m-"
Izuku placed his hands on Kacchan's hot cheeks, his eyes wide and intent as he studied Kacchan's myriad of expressions. He was usually so predictable in his reactions, and always had been.
Embarrassed, then attack. Sad, then attack. Angry, then attack. Uncomfortable, then attack. And on, and on.
But Izuku could barely read what was going on before him, because he recognized the embarrassment and the discomfort, but no assault was being flung his way. Kacchan lay still, letting Izuku embrace him in his palms. His eyebrows still drew together aggravation, his lips in a tight line – but he didn't attack and he didn't run.
He hadn't done it the night before either, when Izuku had blatantly took him into his bed for pure affection and no thoughts of sex.
A glimmering thread of hope tangled around Izuku's heart.
"You stayed? All night?" Izuku said, his voice a little winded, because he was having trouble with the whole breathing thing.
"No," Kacchan said flatly. "Yes. Obviously. Did you lose brain cells in last night's battle?"
"You cuddled me," Izuku said, disbelief clear in his tone.
An angry vein popped above Kacchan's eyebrow as he shook his head violently to release Izuku's hold on him.
