Fuck You, Pay Me!

1. C'est La Vie

"You look absolutely horrid."

Izuku's only saving grace from a comment like that is the obvious concern in his tone---coupled with the fact that Katsuki has about all of the energy of an anemic and has no intention to waste it on petty banter and insincere insults. He finds a more proper use for it in fishing around his coat pocket for his lighter, half of a cigarette already poised between lithe fingers.

"I thought you quit those?"

Katsuki did, too. Or, well, at least he tried.

Saying so out loud would more likely than not just sound like half-assed excuses so he opts for a halfhearted shrug in leui of an explanation---to which he owes fucking no one, anyway.

"Cocaine's too tough on my nose so I switched back." He says dryly, flicking the half empty lighter until it sparks and produces a sorry excuse for a flame but it serves to light his cancerous stick of tobacco nonetheless. The first drag is heavenly, taking the tension out of his shoulders.

Izuku sighs. "Kacchan."

"It's a joke, Deku, fucking hell."

"You're not funny."

"Really? And here I thought I'd be nominated comedian of the year."

"And you can't just use humor to avoid talking about your problem; we talked about this."

Ha! Shows what you know, Shitty Deku. Katsuki can use sarcasm to mask his problems until it kills him.

Katsuki can think of about ten other things he'd rather be doing than listening to his friend nag him to death but it would seem those options became mere pointless desires the moment Izuku Midoriya invited himself into Katsuki's apartment.

He's got to hide that spare key somewhere else.

"Yes, thank you, Dr. Phil, for the ever accurate and yet highly rejected psychoanalysis that no one asked for. Anything else I can do for you today or can I enjoy the rest of my fucking cigarette in peace?" He's being fairly lukewarm still, mostly because he's well aware that it would take much more than that to deter the freckled teen from prying and picking his brain. After fifteen years of cursing and insulting him, the intimidation factor has long since gone. At this point, Izuku regards Katsuki's fussing as he would an angry lap-dog.

"Actually, I need to borrow your notes from law ethics. I missed class yesterday and I need them for that exam we've got next week." He's already digging through Katsuki's bag and flipping through his notebooks and Katsuki let's him. The faster he finds what he's looking for, the sooner he can be left alone to be miserable in peace.

"Seriously, what's up with you? You haven't been like this since your pet turtle died in grade school."

Katsuki discards the remains of his cigarette with a scowl, having smoked it down to the filter. It's his last one and he doesn't really have the funds to keep spending on such a bad habit, hence the reason that he's trying to quit although Izuku thinks it's because he wants to be healthier.

"It's work stuff, nerd, don't worry about it."

There's a discernible amount of disdain in Izuku's features.

"You mean that sleezy club you're at, right?"

Here we go, again.

"Don't fuckin' start, Deku."

"Kacchan, you know how I feel about you working there. It's degrading, it's disgusting---"

"It's a fuckin' strip club, not a goddamn prostitution ring."