Drabble for a No-Quirks AU where Katsuki is a fighter Izuku runs into one night on his way home from work.
--
It's raining, when Izuku finds him -- a proper, flood-the-fields downpour. He's already soaked to the bone, but the man looks like a drowned animal, pale blonde hair plastered to his head and clinging to the swell of a bruised cheek. One eye is ringed with more nasty-looking bruises, and his nose is a mottled collection of blue-black-purple across the bridge; the skin is split open, but the constant rain washes away the blood and keeps the wound from clotting properly.
"Are you alright?" Izuku asks, alarmed at the state of this man, slumped back against a grimy brick wall looking like he's seen the wrong end of a fight. His knuckles are bruised and cracked, so he clearly fought back.
I wonder if the other party looks this bad, too.
Red eyes crack open, and Izuku hesitates at the fire that burns in the man's glare. Split, bloody lips peel back to bare surprisingly sharp canines, and all Izuku can think is, He looks like a feral stray.
Though, if someone beat the stuffing out of him like this, he doubts he would be feeling particularly friendly either. Or very trusting of some stranger crowding into his space.
"I have towels, at home," he offers quietly, taking a deliberate step back. The man is growling, which does nothing to take away from the rabid dog aura crackling around him like electricity. "I can bandage you up, if you want. It's not much, but it's warm, and dry."
At least it's summer, so the rain is warm. He doesn't even want to think of how bad-off the man would be if it was winter.
"Please, let me help you." He offers a hand slowly, wary of the stranger lashing out at him but determined to try.
The man lifts his head a little higher, and Izuku realizes that his right eye is clouded, the pupil unnaturally dilated compared to the left. It was hard to see at first, but now that the fractured streetlight illuminates his injured face better, it's much more noticeable. There's a scar that cuts across that eye, breaking through his eyebrow and curving just a little over the side of his nose; the rest disappears beneath sodden blonde hair.
What on earth has happened to him?
After a tense moment, the man hauls himself to his feet, and Izuku swallows nervously. He's much taller than he first looked -- he must be almost a full foot taller than Izuku's own five-foot-five. He's thick with muscle too, his shoulders broad and his bare biceps nothing short of impressive. He looks like he could kill a man with his bare hands. That, or easily pick someone like Izuku up and--
Don't you dare do this right now, Izuku. That's not what you're here for.
One eyebrow arches at his sudden stammering, a large hand pushing wet hair back from a sculpted, masculine face. He still hasn't spoken, but he seems willing enough to play along for now, so Izuku gestures down the street toward his home, which thankfully is nearby. He's quick to lead the way, hyperaware of the quiet scuff of sneakers behind him when the man follows after a moment.