Bakudeku/Dekubaku Oneshots AU

War Documentary

Kacchan goes tense for the entire description of the Kamino events, and Izuku wraps an arm around his waist, trying to hold him steady until it passes. Katsuki has mostly moved past all of that by now, but even these days, he still feels so guilty, sometimes, and it’s often made worse by what happened to Edgeshot. As Izuku glances around them, he can’t help but notice a few stares, a few hushed whispers that don’t quite reach his ears.

Watching their own interviews is still such a strange experience, even though they’ve all experienced it plenty of times as rookie pros. Katsuki looks suspiciously shy during the moments he’s on camera, and Izuku hugs him tighter when he sees it. The film hasn’t gone into the details of everything the two of them have been through, at least not yet, but really, practically the whole school has heard that story by now. Some of them aren’t exactly quiet about their distaste for Katsuki, though they’re careful to voice it where Izuku can’t hear.

Eventually, the film gets through the first war, and to the second, and though no one in their class looks too rattled, a few of them have definitely moved closer together, or leaned on each other a little harder.

All told, it’s not nearly as painful an experience as Izuku thought it would be. It’s a good film, even; there’s clear skill and creativity here. Izuku has watched enough documentaries to know quality when he sees it. Sure, he’s caught the stares and whispers that the rest of the school has thrown their way, keeping a mental note of all the ones that seem pointed enough to raise a red flag, but really, it’s more pleasant than Izuku expected. It’s almost like they’re normal school kids, having a normal movie night.

Katsuki is more relaxed now, his body warm and pliant against Izuku’s side. Good. That’s good. Izuku was really worried about him when they left the dorm; he looked like he would rather be doing anything else. But now he seems fine, even relaxed enough to resume tracing patterns against Izuku’s skin.

The film moves on without much fanfare, for a few minutes. But then, they come to the day of the final battle. Something Izuku still regards as the worst day of his life.

His spine straightens as he watches the scene in UA’s fortress in the sky unfold. He missed all this, on the day of the war. It’s a little exciting, to finally see it, but the bigger part of him is nervous again, because he knows what’s coming. He doesn’t need the screen to still see the image in his head; the sight of Kacchan lying on the ground is going to be seared into his brain until the day he dies. Watching Katsuki fight is just as amazing as ever, but eventually, when things start taking a turn for the worst, when Kacchan starts losing, Izuku feels his eyes burning with unshed tears. Kacchan has told him everything, but actually watching it, watching Kacchan get hurt and tortured, is…

Katsuki pulls him closer, like he’s reading his mind. Izuku shifts so that he’s half draped over the other’s lap, well aware that people are staring at them but needing the closeness all the same. Still, something keeps him watching the screen, and even as he feels Katsuki’s heartbeat against his shoulder he can feel his breaths coming faster and faster.

And then it’s over, the silence deafening as Izuku buries his face in Kacchan’s chest. He’s probably being selfish; he’s not the one who died, and if he were stronger he would be the one holding Kacchan like this. But he’s not, and he still can’t bear to look at Katsuki like that, so he hides until it all passes. He has no idea if Katsuki is even watching the screen, or if he’s looking away too, but Izuku reaches for his hand, trying to offer what little moral support he can. Kacchan squeezes it lightly, his other hand stroking through Izuku’s hair lightly. The sound of Kacchan’s heartbeat is soothing against his ear.

Izuku is so caught up in the moment that he nearly misses what happens next, but a sudden swell of noise catches his attention. Underneath him, Katsuki goes rigid again.