Plushies and Firearms

four

It became a routine.

One day out of the week, Izuku would find himself seated at the corner of the bar, Katsuki prancing around and serving customers while Izuku made sure no one's hands wandered and Katsuki paid attention to him for at least a minute.

Sometimes, the blond stood by his side and complained about whatever came to his mind, other times, he simply sat on the stool next to him and sneered at Izuku's piss poor attempts at flirting.

It didn't matter what Katsuki did, though, as long as those pretty eyes were on him.

And that was exactly what Izuku was waiting for that night, too. A moment, a break in between orders, just a second in which Katsuki would spare him a glance and, maybe, smile that soft little smile he sometimes had on those plump lips.

But it almost felt as if he wouldn't get to experience that, not during Katsuki's shift, at least.

The bar was packed, filled with grimy bikers and old men ogling the occasional person that walked past them, and Katsuki seemed to be unable to stand still for even a moment.

That was fine, though. Izuku appreciated how hard the boy worked, and he wouldn't interrupt him during such a time, even though Katsuki could take a break every five damn minutes and his boss wouldn't be able to do a thing about it.

What he could do was keep an eye on him.

He wasn't an idiot, he knew how beautiful Katsuki was, how desirable every part of him seemed to those around him, and it showed with the way greedy eyes followed his every move, leering and smirking when Katsuki accidentally brushed against their sides.

And he knew just how these types of people operated - they see a pretty little thing and they can't resist, especially with the alcohol blurring their already empty heads.

So he made sure to remain as sober as possible, leaning back against the counter as his fingertips thrummed on the surface of it, rings clinking against each other while his eyes stayed on Katsuki.

That was until that blond head of hair suddenly disappeared from his view.

Even as his back straightened and his gun felt heavy in his holster, he tried to remind himself it was fine - Katsuki was strong, he could survive without Izuku watching over him for a damn minute.

But a part of him screamed, yelling that despite all his strength, Katsuki was also as delicate as they come - naive and easily swayed if the person pinpointed his insecurities and twisted them.

Beneath all that anger and vitriol, the sharp tongue and nasty words, he was kind - too kind for his own damn good.

It was an endearing trait, something Izuku wished to protect, but these people would want to exploit it.

They prey on those like him, wait until there's an opening and then they strike.

Just as Izuku went to take a sip of his drink, he heard something fall to the ground - glass shattering to pieces as yelling commenced.

His body grew tense as he shot up from his seat, yet he attempted to keep himself calm - growing agitated would only aggravate the situation and the patrons around him.

But as he pushed through the crowd, gaze focused and fists clenching with the urge to rush forward, he found his control slipping away.

And when he finally reached the source of the commotion, he snapped.

Because it was Katsuki, his Katsuki whose lip had a cut in it, droplets of blood falling to his chin as his cheek reddened where he must've been struck. Katsuki who was struggling against the hold of a man who had clearly had too much to drink and was attempting to pull the blond onto his lap.