Behind the Seams [Chapter 1]

A particularly un-manly scream erupted from Katsuki’s mouth, his neon-green light stick waving wildly above his head.

This fic was written as an anonymous commission but the commissioner stopped replying to me a while back, so I've decided to start publishing it here as is, and leave it subject to change if I hear from them :)

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A particularly un-manly scream erupted from Katsuki’s mouth, his neon-green light stick waving wildly above his head. He was crammed into a tight crowd, sweaty bodies jamming him in on every side, which anyone in his daily life would likely have labelled his worst nightmare – little did they know. A pair of emerald eyes turned his way, and the freckled face lit up, waving excitedly and making Katsuki’s face burn bright red, his mouth clamping shut automatically.

“I’ve never seen you blush before,” Mina teased, dragging Katsuki’s attention back to the dull beige office where phones rang incessantly from just outside his door. “How cute of you.”

“Shut up,” Katsuki snapped, turning on his heel to stalk back to his desk. “If you tell anyone, I’ll kill you.”

“Sure you will, babe,” Mina laughed.

“If you don’t put that shit away I’m gonna throw your damn phone out the fucking window.”

“It’s all over the internet anyway,” she sang. “Anyone can find it, I don’t need to show them!”

“Why the fuck would it be on the internet?”

“Well, it was a background shot,” Mina admitted. “It was a news article about the rise of this local idol group and how they’ve become such a national sensation, but I happened to see those hedgehog spikes in the crowd and had to look twice! I thought you had a doppelganger, but lo and behold, it was you bouncing up and down, cheering and screaming like a little girl with a crush.”

“Say that again, I fucking dare you.”

“Little. Girl. With. A. Crush.”

Katsuki narrowed his eyes, stalking back toward her, but a knock on the door halted his murderous intentions. The knocker apparently felt no need to wait for a damn invitation, because the door swung open immediately, effectively cutting off their argument and any ideas Katsuki had about disposing of bodies discreetly.

“Oh, Mina,” said Masaru. “I didn’t know you were here, how are those prototypes coming along?”

“Perfectly on track!” Mina grinned, sliding past him neatly. “Come by and see them whenever you want, Boss! See you later, Boomy!”

“This isn’t over.”

“Sure it’s not!”

She closed the door behind her, and Katsuki folded his arms tightly across his chest, huffing quietly as he finally turned his gaze on his father.

“Well?” he demanded. “What do you want?”

“I thought you’d be in a better mood after last night,” Masaru mused, sitting himself down at Katsuki’s desk and waiting patiently for Katsuki to join him. “You usually are, at least. Did you have a good time?”

“Yeah, I did,” Katsuki admitted. “But that damn pink-haired jerk-face out there found out about it, and now she’s giving me shit.”

“Oh, I wasn’t aware you kept it a secret from your friends.”

“She is not my friend.”

“Okay,” Masaru humoured him. “Anyway, come have a seat, I have some news.”

Katsuki frowned, but he sat down at his desk all the same, and Masaru took a deep breath.

“We’ve just landed a big new contract,” he explained, piquing Katsuki’s interest and making him quickly forget his annoyance. “I need you to listen to me, clearly, and not freak out or make a big fuss. Promise me.”

“Fine,” Katsuki agreed, narrowing his eyes. “I promise, whatever. Why would I freak out?”

“We’ve been in talks with a group about promoting our latest clothing line, and today we signed all the contracts, confirming it’s going to go ahead.”

Katsuki’s eyes widened. “You’re not talking about...?”

“Yes, we are going to be working with Plus Ultra. No, you are not working on the shoot.”

“Haah?! What the hell do you mean I’m not working on it?!”

“Katsuki,” Masaru said sternly, shocking Katsuki into silence – he never heard that tone come out of his father’s mouth. “This is a professional shoot with a group that could give us a lot of publicity, and I know you love them, but I cannot in good faith put you on this project and trust that you’ll do your job without – for lack of a better term – turning into a fanboy.”

“You can’t be serious! Who knows those people better than me?! Who is gonna be better at making them look good in our designs than me?!”

“This contact is too important to the business. Your mother didn’t even want to tell you, she wanted to send you out of town while they were here, but I assured her you would understand. I’m sorry, but we can’t risk it.”

Katsuki knew better than to yell at his own father – didn’t really want to, if he was honest – so instead he just clamped his mouth shut, sinking lower in his comfy office chair. There was nothing he could say that would change it, he knew his father better than that, and while he’d never say it out loud, his parents were probably right. The other idols, sure, whatever, but Deku? In his office? He wouldn’t be able to keep it together, not the way he’d really need to.

His eyes slid toward the locked file cabinet beside him, and ran his fingers over the key dangling from his staff lanyard, with his ID and his swipe card for the building. He never wore the thing around his neck, only dorks did that, but it was always close at hand, usually clipped to one of his belt loops for quick access. He’d wait until his dad left the room and then he’d open the drawer up, weigh up some options.

“Sorry, Katsuki,” Mina said softly, when Masaru took his leave – damn nosy bitch had been hanging around listening at the door, apparently. “I’ll tell you all about it, okay? Maybe I can get you an autograph or something?”

Oh, of course. Mina was in charge of the damn shoot, no wonder she’d gone looking at videos and shit. He should have known something was going on from the beginning.

Not that he’d ever have guessed that, but maybe he’d have wormed it out of her before his father had shut him down so easily.

“Whatever,” he grumbled. “Stupid distrustful parents, always spoiling shit.”

“If this one goes well, we might get to do more,” Mina pointed out. “Let us handle this first one, and I’ll try to get you in on the next one, okay?”

“I’ll get them back,” Katsuki muttered. “Show them what they get for leaving me out of shit.”

“Katsuki,” Mina chuckled faintly. “I’ll keep you updated, and if you have any advice or notes for me, I’ll make sure to take them to the people who matter on this one.”

“You better,” Katsuki huffed. “If you go and make that damn nerd look stupid I’m gonna kill you.”

“I won’t, I promise,” Mina laughed, walking across the room just to pat him on the back lightly. “I’m sorry, buddy. I’ll do you proud, okay?”

“Yeah,” he huffed. “Thanks, I guess.”

“And I’ll send you lots of selfies with Izuku!”

“Bitch.”

Mina left with a laugh, thankfully closing the door behind her, and Katsuki unlocked his little cabinet, taking out an old, worn sketchbook, and flipping it to a new page. He picked up a pencil, flipping it through his fingers for a moment, then started on a messy sketch, grumbling all the while.

─

Izuku stood silently in a corner, trying his best to be absorbed by the pretty stone walls, watching as faces and feet rushed back and forth past him. Every so often someone stopped to look his way, holding up a clothes hanger to see how the items looked against him, but mostly they just ran around looking a lot like headless chickens, though he was sure there was some sort of rhyme or reason in there somewhere. People disappeared and returned with boxes of makeup, or sprinted across the room to grab pins, or hand-sewed seams at the speed of light, all like they knew exactly what they were doing – maybe it was only him that felt out of place and confused?

“Oof, at least buy me dinner first!” Denki teased, when a young woman poked him in the thigh with a stray pin. “Keep those hands to yourself!”

“I’m so sorry, S-Sir!” she stuttered, wide-eyed. “I’ll be more careful!”

“Not to worry, just give me your number before you go, in case I need your insurance information for the doctor’s office.”

“Ignore him,” Shouto said flatly, holding out an arm stiffly as someone draped a dozen identical pieces of cloth over it, scrutinising them intently. “He’s just hitting on you.”

“Oh!” the lady gasped, flooding red. “E-Excuse me a m-moment, I need more p-pins?”

Shouto looked down at a tray full of them, confusion taking over his expression, and despite how overwhelmed he was feeling, Izuku cracked a smile at the pair. Kyouka just rolled her eyes, refusing to get involved with Denki’s antics even when he looked over at her for backup, and Izuku wished - not for the first time - that he was as good as her at just disengaging from the conversation.

Across the room, Ochako and Tsuyu were gushing over a rack full of clothing, ignoring Tenya’s protests about ‘being careful’ and ‘letting the experts choose’. The lady wheeling the rack didn’t seem to mind, though; she just watched quietly as they marvelled over different pieces of clothing, and Izuku could tell she was making careful mental notes about their tastes, filing it away for later – Izuku knew that calculating look; he’d have been wearing the same one himself, if he was in her position.

A familiar voice filled the room, and Izuku looked up as Aizawa finally returned, flanked by two people he hadn’t met yet, though he sort of felt like he had.

“We’re so excited to have you,” the woman was saying, her blonde hair all spiky and artfully messy, and oddly familiar. “Your idols are perfect for this line! It’s gonna make them look so good, very fashion-forward, and we’re sure we’ll get plenty of new attention from their audience, too. It’s a perfect exchange!”

“As long as it doesn’t take more than today to shoot,” Aizawa nodded faintly. “They’re preparing for a big tour, we’re very busy with writing and recording and rehearsing.”

“Oh, of course,” the new man assured him, his smile warm and reassuring. “We have everything set up ready to go, and we have a selection of outfits picked out that we think will work well – though of course we have back ups if they don’t work for some reason – so it should be a very clean process. Ashido over here is our lead on the shoot, she has an amazing vision for it and she’s an expert at bringing them to life, I trust her more than just about anyone!”

Izuku followed their gaze to a girl about his own age, her hair short and pastel pink, with thick, dark eyeliner around her eyes. She gave instructions with the authority of someone twice her age, and Izuku couldn’t help but envy her – she looked so self-assured and confident. She was the sort of person who should have been wearing the clothes being waved at Izuku and his friends. The cool, artsy, trendsetter type.

Izuku, on the other hand, was decidedly not that kind of person. Honestly, he was kind of terrified.

Denki and Shouto were actually pulling it off really well, so far. Shouto seemed to look good no matter what he wore, and didn’t seem to possess the gene for self-consciousness, so Izuku wasn’t terribly surprised about that. And Denki actually wore the same style outside of work, or at least something similar, so he was right at home, flirting with all the pretty girls and trying to find out how much of the stuff he could keep at the end of it. Not to mention the girls, who had gathered together to try on a thousand different combinations of crop tops and buckles and chains and boots that honestly all looked kind of the same. The three of them each had entirely different wardrobes, in their day-to-day life, but they were having a blast with all the new stuff, and Kyouka especially looked ready to replace her entire closet with it, given the chance. Izuku wouldn’t have dared try to deny them that fun, even if he felt ridiculously out of place.

He was pretty sure he was going to look like a kid playing dress up in his big brother’s clothing, but that was for the professionals to fix, right? Maybe they could edit out his chubby cheeks and big eyes from the final product, make him look a little less... childish.

“Izuku, right?”

Izuku jumped, whirling around to see the gorgeous pink-haired girl standing only a metre from him, with a clean, white jacket hanging over her arm. He nodded quickly, lost for words, and she just smiled as she held it out to him.

“For you,” she explained. “We picked this one out for you personally.”

He accepted it with a stuttered thanks, and to his surprise, she waited as he took the item, looking for some sort of reaction. Everyone else had rushed off again the moment they accomplished their task, but she looked like she had all the time in the world to watch him hold the jacket up and run his eyes over it.

“Oh,” he said softly, a tiny smile tugging at his lips. “I’ve seen this one.”

“Yeah,” she grinned. “It’s been in the works for a while now.”

Izuku had seen the same design before, even he was observant enough to recognise it. His biggest fan had worn it to one of his meet-and-greet events; the same man Izuku always saw in the crowd, worming his way to the front with his cheers and enthusiasm and glowing lights. In fact, he’d been wearing it again just a few hours ago, at their show the night prior. Izuku had spotted it immediately in the crowd.

He was far too cool to be a fan of Izuku’s, really – as evidenced by the jacket in Izuku’s hands, equally way-too-cool for him. Even when he wore Izuku’s merch, which he did a lot, like the adorable little teal bunny bag that Izuku still got so giddy over when he saw people wearing it, his fan somehow seemed so effortlessly handsome and above it all. He was so lucky to have a fan like that, someone who had supported him since his very first shows, even though Izuku had never been able to give him anything in return other than a smile and a wave and a few words of conversation at signings.

Maybe the shoot wouldn’t be so bad after all, if his biggest fan liked that stuff.

He gave the girl a nod of thanks and headed toward a curtained stall set up for them to change in. Apparently his buzzing bees had managed to pick something out for him, in the end, because his outfit was laid out in wait. He steeled his nerves and began to strip, praying to every higher power he’d ever heard of that he wouldn’t screw up the whole thing with his awkwardness.

The jacket went on last, of course, and he didn’t look in the mirror until he had it settled in place, to see everything all put together. It was a bright white, the type you only got in brand-new clothing that had never been exposed to even a hint of dirt, which was half the reason he had recognised it – usually he saw his biggest fan wearing black and grey, other than his collection of Plus Ultra merch. The zipper was covered by a wide flap to hide it from view, but underneath, a little black star served as the pull for his zip. He’d always liked stars, most of his merch had stars on it - maybe the universe was trying to tell him that everything was going to be okay.

The wide collar and hood had dark stripes along the edges, smooth to the touch and slightly shiny even in the dim light of his makeshift changing room. He had to resist the urge to take his phone out and shine the flashlight on it, because he was pretty sure he’d seen the same type of fabric make rainbows before, and he was a big fan of a good rainbow. The same material made up an X on his chest, where a shirt pocket would be, as well as a diagonal strap across his front, with a big buckle in the middle - why was it that zips got covered, but buckles were decoration? He would never understand fashion.

The jacket also had two big pockets, which he quickly discovered were sewn shut - was this what it felt like to buy women’s pants and find out the pockets were fake all along? He was going to have to apologise to Ochako for not sympathising with her plight enough.

When he looked closer in the mirror, he noticed tiny details that there was no way he could have picked out in the crowd - the sleeves were stitched with silver thread, barely visible against the white, but when the light caught it just right, it shone like stars. And along the cuffs, he found tiny embroidered bunnies, each one so cute and small and perfect. It was no wonder his biggest fan had picked it out for their shows, it matched all Izuku’s motifs so perfectly!

When he stepped out of the makeshift dressing room, the two older staff members blinked at him in surprise, and Izuku immediately felt self-conscious all over again. Had he missed a buckle on something? Or fastened them wrong? Had he missed a zip and left his pants hanging halfway off?

“I don’t normally wear cool stuff,” he squeaked in explanation. “I’m not used to this, sorry!”

“No, no, you look fantastic,” the man assured him. “I just didn’t know that jacket was in the line up, it surprised me!”

“O-Oh, sorry!” he shrank into himself a little, wishing he hadn’t been so excited to see it. “Should I take it off? I just- It was handed to me, so-”

“No, it looks great.” The lady shook her head. “You did nothing wrong, please don’t stress!”

“I gave it to him,” the pink-haired girl spoke up. “It looks great on you, Izuku! Why don’t you keep it after the shoot?”

“Wh-What? No, I couldn’t possibly! That’s very sweet of you, but-”

“I insist,” the older man said, with a warm smile. “It’s like it was made for you.”

“At least let me buy it!”

“No, you heard him,” the older lady chuckled. “It was made for you, it’s... perfect. You keep it.”

“Y-You’re too kind.” He blushed, dropping his gaze to their shoes. “Thank you very much.”

It made sense, Izuku reasoned internally. The jacket was an older design, since it was clearly already on the market. They were meant to be advertising a new line, so of course they’d been surprised to see it in the line up. But they all seemed to like it on him, with their fond smiles, so maybe it was okay? He felt a little guilty, though. Hopefully the rest of the group would sell plenty of the designs they wore, and maybe Izuku could show off his pants and shoes a bit more when they posed, try to sell those instead. Then again, if he sold older designs, it still got them money, right? That was probably why they’d decided it was okay.

He breathed a sigh of relief, his mind set at ease by the deduction. They would definitely have made him change if they needed to – the girls had each changed thirteen times already, after all, and Shouto three. Only he and Denki had seemed to land on the first options they’d been presented with, and Izuku couldn’t help but be relieved that he didn’t have to go through the whole ordeal again.

With their wardrobe sorted, they were rushed through hair and makeup, and then they were standing under all the bright lights, surrounded by people and cameras and the hustle and bustle of people getting everything just right – again. Izuku was used to being on stage in front of a thousand people, but being scrutinised in an enclosed room felt so much more daunting, so much more intimidating. He tried his best to stand where they told him, and how they told him, and to make the right expressions, but he was so far out of his comfort zone that he couldn’t even think straight, it was just... terrifying.

The pink-haired girl – Ashido, he’d gathered – disappeared from the room at one point, which seemed a little strange considering the older couple – the Bakugous, he’d learned – had said she was in charge. He just hoped she wasn’t leaving to find a way to kick him out of the shoot. It would probably be better without him, sure, but he’d feel so guilty about it!

“Can I try something?” she asked when she returned. “Let’s get the three guys in the back, with Izuku in the middle, and the three girls in front, okay?”

They shuffled into position, and Ashido kept gesturing them closer and closer, until they were all squished together cheek-to-cheek, and Izuku was struggling not to laugh about it as he stumbled and tried to keep his balance. Shouto wedged him in place knowingly, and Denki threw an arm around him when he wobbled, the cameras flashing as they steadied themselves. Izuku knew someone would get a chuckle out of it as they flicked through the photos, at least, even if it didn’t work out for the promotional materials.

“Okay, now group hug!”

“Woo!” Ochako cheered, laughing as she slung an arm back to wrap around Izuku’s shoulders. “Hug time!”

“C’mere, Izuku-chan!” Tsuyu laughed along, joining the masses. “Get in here, boys!”

Denki leaned in tighter, arm still around Izuku’s back, reaching the other one to grab Kyouka and pull her in tighter. Shouto joined them wordlessly, leaving Izuku smushed in what felt like a bucket full of beans – he couldn’t move an inch, even if he’d wanted to.

“So cute!” Ashido praised. “Okay, this time you’re gonna be secret agents on an undercover mission, trying to look like you’re not suspicious.”

They fanned out, taking up poses, and Izuku couldn’t help but chuckle again as he leaned back-to-back with Denki, trying to look innocent and unassuming. The cameras flashed again, and Ashido continued giving them weird and wonderful directions, until Izuku felt like he was in an improv show instead of a photoshoot – it had been a while since he’d tested his acting skills so much!

“Okay, now the fun ones!” Ashido announced, when they’d been through a dozen different scenarios. “Tooru?”

Another girl joined them quickly, handing out shiny silver microphones, before she disappeared again, and for a moment Izuku just blinked at it in his hand, confused. It wasn’t attached to anything, didn’t even have a switch to turn it on and off – clearly just a prop – but still it felt kind of nice to have it in his hand.

Ashido grinned at someone off to the side, and then with the little click of a switch flipping, the room filled with a familiar tune.

“W-Wait,” he spluttered. “Are we-?”

“We can’t have Japan’s favourite up-and-coming idol group here and not get a little private show, right?” Ashido teased. “We need to teach the old folks why people love you so much!”

Ochako grabbed his arm, pulling him close, and he could only smile down at her softly as she started to sing. She had always been ready to perform at the drop of a hat, she lived to be on a stage, and he always enjoyed seeing her work her magic. Shouto was next up to sing, placing a hand on Izuku’s back awkwardly in his own form of encouragement, and Izuku let the warmth seep into him, even through his fancy new jacket.

He raised a hand to his face to cover his blush a little, catching a glimpse of those tiny bunnies again, and for a moment he just closed his eyes, remembering the moment he’d spotted that face in the audience the night before. It had been a short notice one to go with their sudden influx of attention online, and he was pleased to see that the guy had still managed to make it, even so.

With that image in his head, of those ruby red eyes and that bright smile, the green lights waving wildly over his head, Izuku began to sing.

In all honesty, it didn’t take long for him to lose himself. It had always been that way, really. As soon as he started to sing, no matter where he was, he forgot about the world around him – it was just him and his friends doing what they loved the most.

Until the music ended, Izuku forgot about the lights and the cameras, about all the people watching them; he just sang, he just existed, and that was enough. He blinked a few times when the room fell quiet, and then people were applauding, and Izuku was blushing again, his friends sharing hugs and high-fives with both him and each other.

Out in the hallway, unseen, a pair of ruby red eyes got a little teary – but he’d kill anyone who dared to point it out.