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Misillusion

Summary:

Katsuki gets hit by Ms. Illusion's quirk. His life, the life he remembers, the one he fucked up, is now perfect and he's got the one thing he's ever wanted in his bed--
Kirishima.

But can he really keep it?

Notes:

The formatting's a lil wierd because its a thread on my Twitter. Sorry I haven't been able to write good shit lately. This is what I have to offer.

(See the end of the work for more notes.)

Work Text:

“Ground Zero, do not engage!” Aizawa yells into his earpiece.

“I fucking heard you the first five times,” Katsuki growls into the receiver, taking the stairs two at a time.

“Then listen! You do realize we have your suit tracked? We can see you engaging.”

Katsuki tsks, turning a corner. He pumps his arms for speed. “It's fine. There's no one that can beat me. I'll get her.”

“She doesn't have a combat quirk, Kacchan!” Deku screams into the mic. The only reason the nerd isn't up here trying to play hero is because his leg is broken. Again.

“Then this will be fucking easy,” Katsuki says, just as there's a feminine laugh.

He knows the bitch is up here. Ms. Illusion. Not that Katsuki had seen her come up here, per say. But the bitch was smart and this is where Katsuki would go if pro heroes were surrounding the area.

And they were. Sero and Kirishima were on the bottom floor, holding up the building (fucking literally) from collapsing. Katsuki could hear Kirishima's muffled grunts of effort in his earpiece and it was fucking distracting.

There's a dart of cloth to Katsuki's left, a purple ribbon dancing just out of his sight.

This fucking floor is held up by decorative pillars, which is real fucking inconvenient. The damn marble makes for the perfect cover, letting her flit in and out of Katsuki's vision.

“Bakugou, you can't let her touch you!” Some extra shouts over the comms.

“Well, I'm not just going to fucking stand here and let her,” Bakugou snarls, popping out an empty cartridge in his gauntlet and snapping a new one in from his belt. The circle around his wrists, burns red hot signaling a successful exchange.

He's about to blow this bitch to pieces. But fuck. He has to be careful of the pillars. Kirishima is stupidly strong but if Katsuki collapses this floor too, he won't have a fucking chance.

One finger dances onto Katsuki's exposed skin on his arm. But the time he turns, ap shot ready to fire, the woman isn't anywhere to be seen.

Fuck.

His chest heaving, Katsuki takes stock of his body. He feels exactly the same. And for the short amount of time the woman had a finger on him ve doubts she had time to activate her quirk.

He needs to be careful.

No, his common sense tells him. You need to get the fuck out of here.

Katsuki would never ever ever run from a fight. But he would get the fuck out to recreate a fucking strategy and go back in later with a guaranteed victory.

“Hey, Deku,” Katsuki growls out, eyeing the exit. “What exactly is this bitch's quirk?”

He hadn't been listening before. Not his fault though. Not with Kirishima fucking smiling at him, with bright ass tan lines from his hero mask, as he patiently waited for Katsuki to get off duty so they could get takeout.

Another brush of fingers. Three this time.

Katsuki whirls in their direction--

Nothing.

“Deku?? Fucking answer me you shitty nerd--”

Five finger contact. Long digits dig into the back of Katsuki's nape.

He tries to turn around, tries to fucking attack , defend, something

Everything goes black.





~~~~~~~

 

Katsuki opens his eyes. Everything fucking hurts.

He blinks against the blinding white lights. A faint electric screeching is emitting from the glass tubes above him. An intercom sounds, paging Dr. Fuka to radiology.

If he didn't have a headache before, he sure as shit does now.

Katsuki takes a deep breath, inhaling pure fucking antiseptic, eyes rolling around until they land on bright red hair.

Shitty Hair. Fucking Eijirou.

At least we're both alive.

“What happened,” Bakugou croaks out, his throat parched. He tries to reach for the glass on the little table at his bedside, but his arm doesn't get far thanks to the IVs pulling against his skin. Fuck.

“Katsuki!” Kirishima shrieks way too fucking loud. He was no doubt nodding off, but now he leans over the bed, the hospital bed, fuck, and grabs the sides of Katsuki's face with big warm hands.

Katsuki's eyes widen. What the fuck? He must have been in real bad shape for Kirishima to get this fucking close to him--

“I was,” Kiri leans forward, pulling Katsuki's chin up with his hands. “so,” his lips press into Katsuki's own, lightning fast. “so,” another chaste kiss lands on Katsuki's mouth causing his eyebrows to shoot up into his hairline. “ so worried.” A longer kiss follows, soft and hard at the same time, one of Kirishima's fangs poking his lip.

….

What…

 

...the fuck…

Katsuki pulls away, ripping himself out of Kirishima's hands. He pushes away from the redhead, trying to get distance. He can't breathe. What.. He's never… they've never… his lips…. Kirishima just kissed him… the fuck…  “What the hell is happening?” Katsuki demands, gulping in a mouth full of air.

Why the fuck is Kirishima kissing him? Not that it wasn't nice or anything but… it's new. And… definitely wanted.

But what the fuck.

Kirishima seems hurt by the push back. His eyebrows knit together and his mouth (the mouth that was just on Katsuki's) pulls down in a frown. “You okay, Suki? You look a little… shocked?” His thumb rubs over Katsuki's cheek and Katsuki can't handle it. It's too much. “Should I call for the nurse?”

Katsuki's hand shoots out and smacks Kirishima's hand off of him, the IV lines pulling against his skin in the most unpleasant way.

...What the fuck….

The room zeroes in. Katsuki's subjected to fucking tunnel vision. His throat threatens to close.

Katsuki's mouth falls open and he can't look away from his hand.

His hand, which has been attached to him for twenty five years now. His… hand…. Shit. He was certain that he could always recognize his own limbs. So… what the fuck is that gold band on his ring finger?

And why the fuck does Kirishima have an exact match?

What the… fuck.

“‘Suki?” Kirishima leans closer, and Katsuki swears he's going to try to kiss him again, but he just presses the red button on the bed rail with a concerned expression. “Calm down, okay? You're okay.”

The heart monitor beside his bed begs to differ, a low high pitched alarm signaling his oncoming panic attack.

Katsuki struggles to breathe while Kirishima's fingers stroke over his thigh and he whispers, “Shh, baby, you're okay.”

Kirishima doesn't even realize that he's the reason for Katsuki's panic. That it's his touch, cutting off Katsuki's breathing.

The doctor rushes in. Kirishima stands up to allow them room, and Katsuki doesn't even get to enjoy the distance between him and Eijirou before a needle is being plunged into the tube in his hand and he's once again being drug under the veil of sleep.




The next time Katsuki wakes he expects to see Kirishima. And sure enough, the redhead is on the phone next to the bed, in the same clothes. In the same chair.

“No.. honestly Mitsuki he's okay.” Kirishima's eyes cut to Katsuki and he smiles. “Actually he just woke up. Mhm. Yeah, I'll get him to call when he feels better. ...yeah,” Kirishima says with a laugh. “No promises, you know how he is. Okay...yep. See you Sunday.”

“Was that my fucking mother?” Katsuki asks, before he can stop himself.

“Yes. She's really worried about you. But don't worry I convinced her to hold out until Sunday.” Kirishima doesn't attempt to sit closer and it's honestly refreshing.

“Sunday?” What the fuck is Sunday?

Kirishima frowns again. Katsuki doesn't like it. It makes him feel weird. Like it always does. Kirishima should always be smiling.

“You know… family dinner? Every third Sunday of the month? Me, you, your parents, Inko, Midoriya and All might?” When there's no recognition on his face, Kirishima looks like he's tempted to reach for the red button again. “Maybe we should call for the doctor again-”

“What's the date?” Katsuki interrupts. He doesn't need a doctor. He needs to figure out what's happening. He's not an idiot. He's read comic books. And right now, his fucking theory was that that villain had some alternate universe quirk. In which he was married to Kirishima?  Or… or, fuck. Katsuki's cheeks redden. Maybe a time traveling quirk?

“June 3rd?” Kirishima answers. “Why? You afraid you were in a coma? Or worse,” he teases, “worried that the new rankings came out while you were in recovery?”

Katsuki almosts snaps, but he takes a deep breath. “The year, Kirishima.”

“‘Kirishima’?” Kirishima pouts. “Aw, what did I do to deserve it this time?” Immediately his pout turns into something sensual. Which tugs at Katsuki's stomach, in a pleasant way. “What happened to ‘baby’? Huh?” He leans forward, licking his tongue over his bottom lip. “Or maybe you're more in the mood to call me ‘Daddy’?”

What the fuck…

Kirishima smirks when the heart monitor machine spikes for the second time.

Katsuki almost swallows his tongue. “T-the year. What year is it?”

Kirishima seems unbothered by Katsuki's non-response to his baiting. He's clearly more bothered by Katsuki's questioning. “2019?

The date's correct then. “Fucking… tell me about us, or whatever.”

Kirishima's head tilts to the side. “Why?” He asks cautiously.

Katsuki attempts a shrug, but his shoulder screams in protest. “Havin’ a hard time remembering.” Which is a fucking understatement.

Kirishima instantly goes from playful to serious. “You are? Katsuki,” he leans forward, putting a hand on his forehead. “Are you messing with me? What don't you remember? Do you… do you know who am I?”

Fuck. One fucking sentence about Katsuki's predicament and Kirishima is already teary eyed. And he hadn't even mentioned that he doesn't belong here.

Katsuki rolls his eyes. “Obviously I know who you are, Shitty Hair.” There's no reason to stress this Kirishima out unnecessarily. Katsuki just needs to figure out what's going on and get to his own universe. “Just talk to me. Tell me about us. It'll help me… relax.”

Kirishima talks until the doctor arrives. He tells Katsuki exactly what he already knows. They went to UA together. He explains the attack on USJ, Kamino, All Might's retirement. How he won the sport's festival their second year, (Katsuki remembers how fucking proud he was), and how they moved in together third year in a shitty apartment on Takou Street. He details their hero team debut, the opening of Ground Riot.

“And that's it! Ground Riot is thriving, we both have like… thirteen sidekicks, and Mika runs the office when we go out on long missions.”

Katsuki scrubs his free hand down his face. Professionally, everything is the same.

“Tell me about us, Shitty Hair. Me and you.”

Kirishima doesn't seem to understand, and then he flushes. In a scandalized whisper he says, “You want me to talk dirty to you in a hospital?”

Katsuki almost punches him. Almost. And then he almost says yes. “No. I want you to tell how this happened.”

“How.. what happened? How you ended up here?”

“N--that too.” He corrects. “But how did we end up here,” he says with an embarrassed flush, indicating to his wedding ring.

Kirishima's expression turns weirdly soft. “You know what? I'm going to pretend you're not scaring the shit out of me right now, and I'm going to casually tell you the story. If you're messing with me, please stop ‘Suki.” Kirishima shifts, folding his legs under him in his chair.

“We moved into Takou in… May? I think.”

“March. It was fuckin’ winter.” Katsuki corrects before he can stop.

Which must have been the right answer in this context too, because Kirishima says, “Oh yeah! That's right! Because we broke the living room window and all that snow blew in!"

We didn't break shit,” Katsuki interrupts, again. “ You didn't turn the couch when I told you to, and you put it through the glass.”

Kirishima laughs. “Fine, fine. Whatever you say, babe. Anyway, everything was fine. Takeout every week, gaming on our days off. But the apartment was so small, ya know? And the walls were, uh, thin.” Kirishima admits. His cheeks are getting pink again. “And you know me, utterly forgetful. I was always forgetting my towel when I showered. Or to close the door when I changed or…”

“I remember,” Katsuki grunts out. His fucking traitorous ears are hot, he fucking knows it. But he does remember. Kirishima had practically been a fucking naturalist back then.

Katsuki still had dreams about the times he had walked in on Kirishima bent over, sliding red shorts up thick thighs, or the one time he had gotten a full fucking visual of Kirishima taking a dildo to the hilt.

Kirishima rubs the back of his neck. “Yeah, well. I was starting to give up hope. I mean, I didn’t know how many times I had to show you my cock to get you to do something. Eventually, I was convinced you obviously weren't interested. Why else would you turn away and storm out when I was so clearly begging for it?” Kirishima sighs, fingering his gold ring.

“We had a month left on our lease. And we were arguing over which loft we were going to move into next. I didn't give a fuck about the place. I was just hurt that you weren't seeing me. Or worse, you were, but you didn't care. I mean, fuck, Katsuki, did you honestly think I was just forgetting my sex toys around the house? Or that all those nudes were accidently sent to you?”

Kirishima's head falls back onto the chair. He stares up at the ceiling. “We fought constantly. Everything you liked about the new place, I pretended to hate. And I don't know. I got fucking tired of beating around the bush. Either you wanted me, or you didn't. Either way I had to know. I had to decide. I needed to know if I was going to keep chasing after someone who clearly wasn't interested or if I was going to be a man and confess. And I was going to do it soon.”

Katsuki listens to every word. Everything is identical to his own life. The fights, the apartment. It hurts his chest to know how deeply Kirishima felt. To know how he felt like he wasn't wanted. But he can deny nothing.

“Or so I thought. But, I chickened out. Which was fine. I convinced myself I could just keep this up. I would move into the new place and just… keep it going. I didn't want to lose you.” He shrugs. “I got drunk at the banquet. I honestly don't remember how much I drank. But it was a lot. Despite that, toward the end of the night another hero asked me out. Do you remember?”

Katsuki nods, his fingers tangling in the thin blanket at his hips. “Stingray.”

“Yep!” Kirishima grins. “I told you- super loud and completely fucking wasted- in front of the entire ballroom, unless you told me not to go, that I was going to go, and I was going to let him kiss me. Of course, you were super manly,” He practically swoons. “And you told me that I was yours and like fuck, I would be dating some extra . I'm pretty sure you made me cum against the punch table. Twice. And then of course, we moved into the loft you liked. Because it really was perfect. We got engaged… eight months later? And married in two years. And they've been damn great years, Suki,” Kirishima says in a husky voice.

Katsuki nods when the story us over because he feels like he has to do something.

Everything is exactly the same. Everything except…

 

Katsuki takes a sip of his champagne, opening his mouth to tell off the fucking idiot in front of him. Banquets are fucking stupid, and he hates fucking socializing with other fucking heroes.

He fucking hates dressing up. He hates taking pictures. He hates making statements and he hates playing nice. He's fucking reached his limit. Starting with this dick.

Katsuki doesn't get anything out though, because Eijirou is shouting his name, stumbling through the crowd of people. “K-katsuki!”

He turns, eyes widening. Fuck, Eijirou is wasted. His cheeks are pink and he's unable to walk without falling over. Some extra dressed in a wetsuit has his hands on Ei's hips, holding him up, and Katsuki narrows his eyes at the male, fucking daring him to keep touching Eijirou.

“Katsuki,” Eijirou breathes, falling toward him, his red hair escaping his ponytail and curling around his face. His hands land on the lapels of Katsuki's suit jacket and grip the material tight between his fingers.

Katsuki steadies Eijirou, eyes shifting to find the closest exit.  He needs to get them home before Ei ends up on the cover of the tabloids for being sloshed at a PR gig.

“Suki,” he slurs way too loud. “This is Stingray.” He sloppily nods toward the extra who had been holding his waist. “He,” Ei hiccups. “He thinks I'm pretty.”

/I think you're pretty. / Katsuki almost confesses. But he can't.

“He wants to go out with me.” And for being so fucking drunk, Ei's eyes find his easily and don't waver. “He wants to take me to dinner, ‘Suki. He wants to walk me home and kiss me goodnight.” Kirishima's expression turns desperate, his grip tightening. “Tell me not to go and I won't. Tell me you want me. Say it out loud. I swear I'll go home with you right now. But if you don't say something, if you don't admit that there's something between us, that there's always been something between us, then I promise I'm done chasing you. I'm going to go out with Manray--”

“Stingray” the man supplies helpfully.

“---yes, and I'm going to let him take me to dinner and let him kiss me and maybe more. Please, Suki. Just confess.”

Everyone in the room is staring. Everyone.  

It's too much. He can't… even if it's true… of course it's fucking true, Katsuki isn't about to air their laundry in front of an audience of extras.  

“Kirishima,” Katsuki sighs, wrapping his fingers around his wrist. “Let's go back to the house. You're fuckin’ wasted.”

Kirishima rips himself away like Katsuki's touch burns him. There's tears in his eyes. “Tell me you want me.” He whispers brokenly. He's begging.

A camera flashes. Fucking paparazzi.

Katsuki turns in the direction of the camera. He's going to break the fucking thing, shove it down the fucker's throat--

A sob has him turning back. But it doesn't matter. Because Ei is leaving, with Stingray's arm around his lower back.

He doesn't even glance back at Katsuki.

 

Kirishima had moved out after that. They hadn't moved into the loft. Not in his timeline. Kirishima had went uptown. He had opened a secondary location of Ground Riot and only contacted Katsuki through his secretaries.

A year passed before they actually saw each other again. They had collided in a grocery store of all places. Kirishima had been withdrawn, but had agreed to go to dinner and catch up. They avoided personal questions, engaged in mostly small talk and went back to their own lives.

After a month or two they started texting back and forth. Finally, shit was going back to normal, with weekly takeouts and gaming days.

Kirishima used to be so touchy with Katsuki, throwing an arm over his shoulders, pounding their hands, or brushing their thighs together. Those days were over. When he came over he sat on the other end of the couch, and no matter how late they hung out Kirishima always drove home instead of crashing with him.

They never ever talked about relationships and Katsuki always refrained from asking about Stingray. That had been years ago, surely they weren't still together. But fuck…

Katsuki clears his throat. His eyes are fucking wet.

This isn't real. This is not his timeline. He needs to figure out how to get back. Right now, he's living some other version of his life. Still. He can't let it go. “I finally told you how I felt, huh?”

In this world he did it right. Kirishima is actually his. Well, no, not his. But Kirishima is with a version of himself. He didn't fuck it up here.

Kirishima nods, his eyes fond. “It was so manly, Katsuki. The manliest.”





The doctor releases him. There's nothing wrong with him. Besides a headache.

Kirishima takes him home, the same building he lives in in his time. Although, sure it's the exact same building structure, and the same geological placement, but it looks entirely different.

Eijirou clearly lives here with him, his shoes, even his really tacky crocs, hero outfit, and flashy decor just as present as Katsuki's stuff.

The kitchen looks pretty much the same. Just with the addition of some extra coffee mugs. And a fridge full of meat, of course.

He knows Kirishima is watching him, eyes following him with concern. Everytime Katsuki turns to find him staring, he grabs something nearby (discarded mail or a pillow to straighten) to act like he's not watching Katsuki's every move.

Most of the pictures around the apartment Katsuki actually has in his time. But here, the glossy images of Kirishima draped over him, smile wide, are treated better. They're in frames, lining tables and hung in the hallway.  Back at home, his home, they're crammed in a drawer.

His bedside drawer, yes. And it's not like they lay there forgotten, discarded with an old tv remote and a pack of batteries. Katsuki looks at them. A lot. And if he's in a real fucking mood, he'll leave them out, prop them up against his lamp, and fall asleep looking at them.

The bedroom's more of their shared tastes, black sheets & red shaggy carpets. CrimsonRiot merch on one side & AllMight posters on the other. It's surprisingly clean, at least at a glance, with just a few articles of clothing on the floor on what is no doubt Kiri's side of the bed.

There's two toothbrushes in the bathroom, and Kirishima's orange and sandalwood body wash in the shower.  

When Katsuki's done exploring, at least on the surface, Kirishima goes to shower. -After worrying and hovering over Katsuki for the better part of an hour.--

“I'll just be a few minutes! I'll leave the door open just a crack in case you need m--”

“Like hell you will,” Katsuki snarls. “Shut the fucking door.”

Reluctantly Kirishima does.

Katsuki goes through the drawers in the bedroom, as soon as the shower starts, looking for some fucking clue on how to get back.

And also maybe because he's fucking curious about his other life here.

Maybe if he could find the file on the real villain he was fighting-- who apparently was not the woman in this timeline, but a male with a solidification quirk (who had no fucking clue what Katsuki was talking about when he made Kirishima swing by the station)-- he could figure this shit out.

Katsuki doesn't find any files. Instead he finds a drawer full of lingerie and sex toys that make his palms explode.

When Kirishima comes rushing out, his hair damp, his towel almost covering nothing, Katsuki is sitting on his hands on the couch, pointedly NOT looking toward the bedroom.





Katsuki spends two weeks in this other universe. Fourteen full days, searching for clues, for Ms. Illusion herself, and trying to not fuck up this timeline.

He figures that once he fixes everything, the Katsuki that actually lives in this universe, the one that admitted to loving Eijirou will probably come back. And * that* Katsuki , the brave one, the truthful one, deserves to be here. He deserves to come back to his exact same life.

But…  it's a fucking challenge to not fuck it all up.

This Kirishima is.... accustomed to a certain kind of life. And Katsuki is used to an entirely different one. And yeah, yeah Katsuki *wants* this life... but... he doesn't deserve it. *He* isn't the one that earned it.

Hell, maybe his stint here will be something other than stressful. Maybe Katsuki can go back to his own universe a little happier knowing that he got it right in at least one timeline.

*incoming text*

Eijirou: Can u get off 2mrw or nah? Reallllllly want 2 have a day 2 recover 2gether.

Katsuki closes his eyes. Takes a deep breath.

Me: Sorry, trainee meeting tomorrow at 10.  

He locks his phone, and starts to slide it into his pocket.

Eijirou: buttttttt katsukiiiii. Its our anniversary! Mika can do the meeting!

Me: No can do. Sorry

Katsuki drops his head into his upraised hands. He's fucking exhausted.

He spends every moment he's awake blasting villains and searching for one that apparently doesn't exist.

He keeps a tight work schedule, taking no days off and working through lunch.

At night, he barely sleeps, trying to avoid his husband. Kirishima can't not invade Katsuki's side of the bed. He's like a fucking octopus, coming at him with fifty fucking hands, trying to grope pecs and dick, and Katsuki barely escapes the bed unscathed.

And the other Katsuki clearly never expected to sleep on the couch every night, because the damn thing sure wasn't purchased for comfort. It was leather. Too hard, too short, and a fucking guaranteed crick in the neck.

So Katsuki barely slept.

And now apparently he was going to have to spend his only two days off this week, fucking loitering around town, so he could avoid going home.

Because this timeline Katsuki? He already put in a vacation day for his and Eijirou's anniversary.

Fucking overachiever.

Katsuki stays late at the office. He has nothing to do, he just doesn't want to go home, so he takes the trash cans from every sidekicks’ desk to the dumpster and boxes up all the sensitive documents to send to the shredder.

The lights are on auto, so around 11pm, they turn off, despite Katsuki still hanging around.

Well fuck. He has to go home now.

Katsuki pulls his phone back out. He opens his and Eijirou's messages. He's probably asleep.

Hopefully anyway.

….Yeah. The last message was at 10:03. It's safe to assume Ei passed out, and as long as he's quiet making his way to the couch, his 'husband' will probably stay that way.

Just in case, Katsuki stops at the gas station and fills up the car.

He checks his twitter in the parking lot.

Buys a slushie and drinks it.

At midnight, he tiptoes up the stairs and slides his already retrieved key into the lock. (He doesn't want to make noise looking for it on the ring.) He pushes open the door slowly, trying hard to avoid that squeak. He toes off his shoes--

“Hey,” Kirishima says hollowly. He's on the couch, in a long sleeved shirt and dark pants (which is weird because it's midnight and also because Ei hardly ever wears clothes at home.) The lamp is on, illuminating the petals on the coffee table and two plates of untouched food, completely cold by now.

Katsuki's blood turns to ice in his veins. Why isn't Eijirou asleep?

“You should be in bed,” Katsuki says, pulling off his jacket. He can shower now that Kirishima is awake at least, now that he doesn't have to worry about waking him up.

Kirishima laughs hollowly. “Aren't I currently sitting in your bed?” He pats the leather of the couch. “You sleep here way more than you sleep in our room.”

Fuck. Are they about to fight? Katsuki isn't… he doesn't know what to say or do to appease Eijirou. This is why he didn't say yes to Kirishima in his own fucking timeline. Because he knew that he wouldn't be good enough at this for Eijirou.

“I get fucking tired watching the news,” he lies. It's not even a good lie. And neither of them believe it.

“Okay,” Kirishima says to his surprise. But he's not done. “Where have you been these last few nights? You get off at seven.”

Katsuki stops himself from shrugging. “Just trying to catch up on hero work. You can check my time card if you don't fucking believe me.” Katsuki digs his nails in. He needs to shut the fuck up. There is no reason to be snapping at Eijirou. He's just concerned about his husband.

"Kay,” Eijirou says, easily enough. But Katsuki sees the tears in his lashes. “I... they said to give you time. I've been trying. I.." His voice breaks. "Why haven't we been showering together? We always shower together.”

Katsuki doesn't have an excuse for that one. He can't tell Eijirou the truth. That it feels wrong. Like he's simultaneously taking advantage of Ei and also cockblocking his alternate self.

Eijirou just nods at his lack of a response. Fuck. That's probably worse. “And the s-sex? Everytime I ask…” he drops his hands in his lap. “You either avoid me or straight up deny me. I honestly expected this in the early stages of our relationship but now? I know how much you like sex. So, what?” He straightens his shoulders. Like he expects a physical blow. “Did you find someone else to have sex with?”

Fuck, Eijirou. No! Of course not.” Katsuki comes over to the couch. His hands itch to pull Kirishima close, to press his tear stained face into the curve of his neck and soothe his hands down his back.

He doesn't.

“T-then what? Is it me? Do you,” his voice chokes out, and he sobs into his fist. “Are you not attracted to me anymore? I'll d-do whatever you need me to, K-Katsuki. I'll wear whatever y-ou want or--” he hiccups. “-any p-p-position you want--”

“For fuck's sake, Eijirou,” Katsuki whispers. He can't fight it anymore. He grips Eijirou's thighs, picks him and pulls him into his lap. He holds him, rubbing up and down his back while his husband soaks his shirt. He hums, fingers stroking over his long hair as he mutters praise and shit to Eijirou.

Finally he calms down enough to pull back, his chest heaving.

“Eijirou,” Katsuki says, tucking a hair behind his ear. Red eyes lock with his and suddenly Katsuki is saying shit he wished he said his first year of UA. “I love you, you dumbass. I will always love you.” His lips brush softly over Kirishima's bottom lip. “I'm sorry I've been so shit lately. I'll be better. I promise. You deserve better.” And fuck, he can't help it, he's leaning in for another taste of Ei's lips. “Please forgive me.”

Kirishima's hands are in Katsuki's hair and he's pulling their lips together, sighing into the kiss. Kastuki's pretty sure this is their first kiss since he came home from the hospital and it's definitely the first he's initiated.

Eijirou tastes so fucking amazing. Exactly the way he thought. Their tongues tangle lazily, and Katsuki is not immediately good at it. He's never kissed anyone before, but it's okay. Because Eijirou has clearly had years of practice kissing Katsuki.

Katsuki shoves his hands under Kirishima's top, fingers drifting over the muscles in Kirishima's back. He's so fucking hard and hot…

Eijirou breaks the kiss, to pant. “Can we please have sex, Katsuki? I feel like I haven't came in months.”

And when he asks so sweetly…. Katsuki wants to say yes.

He wants to so fucking bad.

But… Katsuki has never done this before. And… his quirk…

“How about I blow you?” Katsuki offers instead, brushing his fingers against the waistband of his jeans. That's less likely to end in an explosion. Plus, Katsuki really wants to suck Kirishima's cock.

Eijirou frowns, previous doubt creeping into his face. “Ahh, uhh, it's okay.” He tucks his chin down, scrambling to get off Katsuki's lap. “It's fine. ...Let's uh, just go to bed.”

“Hey.” Katsuki locks onto Eijirou's wrist and pulls him back to face him. “I want to, baby. But… we have to wait. I promise it has nothing to do with you. I really want to fuck you, Eijirou.” He squeezes his hand, hard. “Really, really fucking bad. But… I can't. But soon. Okay?”

Kirishima nods, wiping his eyes. “Okay, Katsuki. Can we do it like we did for Valentine's Day?”

A sharp pain in Katsuki's chest has him gasping.

Fuck. He looks down, but there's nothing. It's internal, no fucking doubt. His heart is a mess.

He doesn't know what to give Kirishima.

He wasn't the one here for Valentine's Day.

And suddenly he's full of regret. He fucking missed out on so much. He doesn't get Valentine's days or anniversaries with his Kirishima. When he goes back to his own timeline-- because no, he isn't going to stop searching for the answer to get back, this Kirishima deserves his real husband-- Katsuki doesn't get to come home to bright fucking sunshine with a shark smile.

“Hey, 'Suki,” Kirishima says with a hand cupping his check. “Look at me.” He does.

“Wake up.” Ei leans forward for another kiss, but this one is weird. It's like he's trying to suck Katsuki like a vacuum cleaner. He shifts forward, pressing their chests together. “Please.”

Katsuki kisses Eijirou back. But his head's not in it. Why the fuck did he not tell his Eijirou the truth? Why the fuck did he let him go out with that fucking extra?

Clearly they would have worked! This Eijirou and this timeline of himself worked. Why? Why the fuck had he let him walk away?

“Katsuki please,” Kirishima suddenly says, tears falling onto his face. “Please. Just say something. Call me, Shitty Hair. Blow me up. Please. Just wake up.”

Katsuki frowns. “Hey, Ei stop crying. I am awake--”

Kirishima thrashes against him. “Wake up! Wake up! Please! Please Katsuki, you can't do this to me!” Kirishima's fist slams into Katsuki's rib cage, and his heart stutters out of rhythm because of it. What the FUCK--

Bright lights. A buzzing overhead--

No, wait, he's back with Eijirou. Ei's thighs are pressed around his face, smashed into his ears, and he's a panting mess beneath him, open mouthed, tongue pressing to his teeth. Katsuki has the tip of his cock in his mouth, and his tongue is lapping up precum. Eijirou is so beautiful. He could stay here forever--

A sharp beeping. Pain in his ribs. Someone is talking. A warm hand is cupping his… there’s water falling on his stomach… drip… drip… drip--

“We got approved!” Kirishima is crying. They aren't in bed anymore. Kirishima is holding a paper, and he's clutching at Katsuki's shoulders. “We got approved for quirk manipulation! We're PREGNANT, KATSUKI!”

Pregnant? Fuck! Katsuki spins Eijirou around, the redhead screeching excitedly. Babies! They're going to have babies. Holy shit, this is all Katsuki has ever dared to hope for. Life could not get--

--Something pulls at Katsuki's hand. “Katsuki, please. I know you're in there. Please. Don't be an ass. Wake up.”

--“I am awake,” Katsuki calls out. But… is he? Wait. Where the fuck is his Eijirou? Well, not his. But the one that….

What the fuck is happening?

“I'm going to kick your ass for making me worry.”

Eijirou.

But where is he?

Katsuki turns in a circle. Darkness. “I'd like to see you try Shitty hair!” Katsuki screams out. Maybe if he can bait Ei into answering, he can find him.

“Suki? KATSUKI!” There's a new set of voices.

...Arguing...

“I swear! I swear he moved!” Eijirou's voice again. So beautiful.

Katsuki turns around. Where did everything go?

Where is Eijirou? Not that Eijirou. His Eijirou. The one he fucked up with. The one he still hasn't kissed or confessed to. The other one is nice, perfect even. But he can't leave his Eijirou. He can't let him think he's unwanted. Not when Eijirou is literally the only thing Katsuki has ever wanted.

Katsuki turns his head. Is that the fucking sun?

He nearly trips over his own feet--

With a heavy inhale, Katsuki jerks up from a hospital bed, hunching over, coughing hard enough to gag himself.

Within a second, Kirishima's hands are smoothing over him, offering him a glass of water. Katsuki accepts the glass with shaking hands, drains it in one gulp and then pushes back enough to see Kirishima's face.

It's tear stained and tanlined. His hero costume is fucking grimey, the skirt torn, and one of the gears busted off. His mask is on the closest table and he offers a watery smile that pulls at the bandage on his chin. “You're awake.” He says breathless.

“Didn't know I was sleeping.” Katsuki narrows his eyes. “Are you real?”

With a strained laugh (it's been a fucking rough four hours) Kirishima answers. “I guess so, man. Is there a reason you think I'm not?”

There's no ring. Not on Kirishima and not on his own hand. Katsuki almost misses the weight.

"They said you got hit with a mind manipulation quirk. Are you--"

“Do we live together?” Katsuki interrupts.

Kiri wipes his face. “No? Are you okay?” Kirishima's head tilts to the side. “What's the last thing you remember?”

Fuck. The Deja vu is about to make him nauseous. It makes him impatient. He needs to make sure. “At the banquet. When you confessed to me, what did I say to you?”

Kirishima's eyes harden. It's silent for the few tense seconds it takes for Kirishima to stare at him like he's grown three heads. “Fuck you,” he finally says. “Fuck. You.” He grabs his mask. “I stayed at your bedside all fucking day, you asshole. And the first thing you do is push me away? You could have been a bit more tactful about it.” His teeth snap together. “But you know what I should have fucking expected it. Fucking ass. See you later, Bakugou.”

Katsuki about pulls his veins out lunging after Kirishima. The tubes taped to his hand rip out, the monitors go crazy, but Katsuki doesn't care. He grabs Kirishima's wrist with a grip hard enough to bruise it.

Kirishima glares down at the hold. “Let me go, Bakugou.”

The room is spinning. Katsuki shakes his head. Fuck. He doesn't have time. He doesn't have a fucking speech prepared and honestly Kirishima looks like if it takes Katsuki another three seconds to say something he's going to deck him.

Fuck... his head. What if this isn't real? Fuck, what if it IS?

The chance to start over... to have a Valentine's Day and an anniversary…

Katsuki doesn't know when he started but he knows he's crying when he blurts, “I love you!"

Kirishima stops fighting. His wrist goes slack. “...WhAt?” His eyes are huge.

Katsuki can't stop now. “I am so fucking in love with you, Kirishima. I have been in love with you since you saved me in Kamino. Fuck, before that. When you held your own in the entrance exam, maybe. I'm not really sure when it happened exactly I just know that it did--”

Kirishima puts his hand over Katsuki's mouth, cutting off his rant. "Wait. Back up. You… love me?! Like you're IN LOVE with me?"

Katsuki can't talk for the hand over his lips. So he nods. Yes.

Kirishima grins so wide his jaw pops. “You love me?” He whispers softly. Once more. Just to be sure.

Katsuki pulls Kiri's wrist away, and meets his eyes as he presses a kiss deep into the palm. "Yes. Kirishima Eijirou, I am in love with you. I shouldn't have…. I messed up. Fuck, I'm sorry."

Kirishima's arms wrap around him. “You absolute ass.” His lips press into his neck. His tears fall hot on Katsuki's skin.

“Screw you for making me wait.” Kiri pulls back, fingers playing with the hair at the base of Katsuki's neck. “Maybe I should thank Ms. Illusion for knocking some sense into you." He sighs playfully. "'m not waiting anymore, dammit. Kiss me, Katsuki. Like you mean it.”

Katsuki does.

And he doesn't stop kissing Eijirou.

Notes:

If you want to see more writing, I do ALOT of shit on Twitter. @ruingreystreak And also @writesruin