Heat Wave

Final future-twitter-thread of the month! This is technically SFW but it has a lot of... implications, so proceed with caution!

—————

Katsuki was going to be the death of him, and he didn’t even know it.

It was all because of the stupid heat wave that had been coursing through the city. They’d already cancelled all outdoor classes for the sake of avoiding heatstroke, not to mention the Pro-Heroes had all been spending their days rescuing people from heatstroke. Their dorm rooms, thankfully, had air conditioning to let them survive the nights, but everything about the days had just been sweltering and miserable. Sitting in a classroom all day, wearing long, thick trousers, was not the least of his issues.

“Holy shit,” Izuku heard someone whisper. “What the fuck.”

Izuku looked over, finding every eye focused on the classroom doors, though their object of their amazement didn’t even seem to notice. Katsuki just walked over to his desk, giving Izuku a clear view of everything that was going on, while Izuku stared in disbelief.

Katsuki was wearing a skirt.

“Bro!” Kirishima said brightly, hurrying over to his side. “Do you have something to tell us? Because you know we’ll accept you no matter what, right? It’s super manly – or uh, super cool? Super cool to see you being yourself!”

“Fuck off, Shitty Hair.” Katsuki glared. “It’s fuckin’ hot.”

Yeah it was. Izuku barely managed to keep his mouth shut.

“This stupid school will apparently let us do anything to our damn uniforms except wear shorts, and I’m sick of sitting in a god damn puddle of sweat in this classroom.”

“So your solution was... skirt?”

“Uniform rules don’t say shit about who can wear the skirts,” he shrugged. “I’m sure they assumed shit, but they didn’t write it down, so fuck ‘em.”

“That’s... actually pretty smart. I’m kind of jealous.”

“You should be,” Katsuki smirked, skirt swishing as he dropped into his seat. “My legs and crotch feel amazing.”

His legs looked amazing too, and Izuku was certain his-

Nope. Not going there.

The bell rang, sending Kirishima back to his seat, and Izuku leaned forward, getting as close as he could to Katsuki’s ear before he whispered the question that was burning a hole in his brain.

“Did you shave your legs?”

“Fuck off,” Katsuki growled. “Not all of us have hairy-ass legs like you, bitch.”

That was fair, Izuku supposed. Katsuki was blonde, after all, so his body hair was probably soft and pale too. His socks were covering his lower legs anyway, but his thighs had looked so bare and white and smooth, Izuku had an almost irresistible urge to touch them.

When Aizawa walked in to start class, he took one glance at Katsuki and immediately dismissed it – he didn’t give two shits what his students wore, anyway, and he certainly wasn’t going to waste his time arguing about it with Katsuki. If his students wanted to wear skirts, so be it.

Izuku, on the other hand, suffered the entire day. He could barely focus on taking notes and answering questions, couldn’t listen to a word of the reading when Katsuki stood up to take his turn, and when lunchtime came, he could only stare in silence as Katsuki walked away to get his food.

“Rough day?” Uraraka teased, perching on the edge of Izuku’s desk. “He pulls it off surprisingly well.”

“Tell me about it,” Izuku mumbled.

“You poor thing,” Uraraka giggled. “Come on, come get some food. We should probably find you a drink, too.”

“Like a shot? That might help.”

“No, you just seem thirsty today.”

“I hate you.”

“Aww, look at you, making your man proud.”

She slid off the desk, and Izuku clambered to his feet, following after her with a sigh. He’d known for a long time that he was way too fucking attracted to Katsuki, obviously, but he hadn’t expected his brain to get so damn obsessed with his legs.

The cafeteria was a storm of intersecting whispers when he arrived, people from every class in the school gathering together to eat their food and whisper about Katsuki’s legs. Not that he could blame them, obviously. Some of them speculated about him losing a bet, others said he was ‘experimenting’, but most of them just asked how.

How was he pulling it off so well?

“Dudes can wear skirts too, you misogynistic asswipes,” Katsuki was yelling, when Izuku dared to sneak another look his way. “Do I need to kick your god-damn ass in a skirt just to prove a fucking point?”

Fuck, that was kinda hot too.

As he moved to storm out, Katsuki caught Izuku’s eye, and for a moment time seemed to freeze. Izuku could feel his face flooding with heat, and as he watched, Katsuki’s lips slowly stretched into a devastatingly handsome smirk.

“You’ve got it so bad,” Uraraka whispered from behind him, giggling. “Oh, Deku-kun.”

Katsuki turned on a dime, stalking over to Izuku’s table, and Izuku prayed to every god he’d ever heard even vague mentions of that maybe, just maybe, the floor would open up and swallow him whole. Or a villain would break down the building and distract them all. Or—

“You like what you see, nerd?”

Katsuki leaned in close, his lips right beside Izuku’s ear, but all Izuku could think was that anyone behind Katsuki at that exact moment was probably getting a beautiful shot of his thighs, where his skirt rode up. He wondered what Katsuki was wearing underneath – his usual boxers? A shorter pair that wouldn’t stick out as easily? Or—

“You’re not subtle,” Katsuki continued, voice sinfully low. “Shitty little perv, can’t take your damn eyes off me, huh?”

Izuku wasn’t sure what to say – if anything. His mouth was suddenly so dry, his throat swollen shut when he tried to swallow. There was no correct answer to that damn question – no good answer, even – and Izuku wondered how difficult it would be to activate his quirk and get away without Katsuki chasing him down. Or whether he could activate it at a high enough percentage to just combust without injuring anyone else in the process. Or—

“Damn right,” Katsuki said, his voice somehow even lower and more enticing. “I’m a hot piece of shit and you know it, nerd.”

“Yeah,” Izuku choked out, eyes wide as he finally met Katsuki’s gaze. “Y-You are.”

Katsuki blinked at him, apparently taken aback by the blatancy of it, but the moment passed almost immediately, that self-satisfied smirk returning to his face.

“Good boy,” he said, making Izuku bite down on his lip to keep quiet. “Buy me dinner later and maybe I’ll wear it for you again.”

He turned and walked away before Izuku could stutter out an answer, leaving him to just stare, dumbfounded, at the cafeteria door that slowly swung closed between them.

Katsuki was going to be the death of him, and apparently he knew it all too well.