Work Text:
“I think we should live together. After graduation.”
Shouto glances up, but Katsuki’s still looking down at his calculus book. The final is tomorrow, but he isn’t stressed. They’ve been studying together for so long it feels like habit more than need.
“Oh,” Shouto says.
“Save money. There are plenty of places near both our agencies.”
“Okay,” Shouto says.
“I’d end up blasting Deku or Kirishima out a window, they talk so much.”
“I said okay,” Shouto says.
“And you can’t cook for shit so—” Katsuki looks up, eyebrows lifted in surprise. His mouth is still open like he’s waiting for the rest of the sentence to come out, but then he shuts it, swallows, and says, “Okay, good.”
Until Katsuki’s request-slash-demand, Shouto had been planning to return home after graduation. Fuyumi had been asking, and Shouto… well, her feelings were stronger than his. She had some sort of vision of how their family could come back together. Even with their mother in the hospital. Their dad in his apartment.
Hard to imagine how anything good could happen in that house, but Shouto didn’t have an alternative. He hadn’t even considered asking Katsuki to live together, given that Katsuki had spent three years proclaiming how eager he was to get away from their sloppy, noisy class. When the offer came, Shouto jumped on it with relief.
Saying yes was easy, and living together is easy, too. Quieter than the dorms, in a good way. Katsuki cooks, Shouto cleans. They’re both inclined to spend Friday nights at home watching movies and Sunday mornings at the farmers’ market. Shouto doesn’t cook, but he likes helping Katsuki pick out peaches and satsumas, shishito peppers and daikon.
They always stop at the ice cream stall on the way home. Katsuki gets the tiniest scoop of green tea and Shouto gets two of strawberry. They sit near the river and Katsuki eats three bites and then watches while Shouto finishes the strawberry, then the melty green tea. They taste good together. He’s not sure Katsuki even likes ice cream.
Shouto’s mother used to hold his ice cream when he was little. When they were still living together. She could keep it perfectly frozen to the very last bite.
Shouto takes his mother to lunch every week on his day off. He sees his father at work most days, which is more than enough, but Enji keeps trying to spend “quality time” with him.
“My dad won’t leave me alone,” Shouto says at dinner one night. It was an irritating day, but Katsuki’s curry is already making him feel better. “He’s always walking by my desk. Asking me to have lunch. It's too much. Doesn’t he have an agency to run?"
“I have an idea,” Katsuki says, spooning more rice into Shouto’s bowl.
The next week, whenever Shouto has a desk shift, Katsuki shows up at lunchtime with a bento. He sits on the corner of Shouto’s desk while he eats it. On the days Shouto’s shift ends at six in the evening, Katsuki shows up to walk him home.
His company is pleasant, but even better, Enji looks so perplexed, so uncomfortable, even Shouto notices, and he tries not to pay much attention to his father.
Delighted, he tells Katsuki, how well his idea is working. “My dad would probably catch his desk on fire if we held hands.”
Katsuki shrugs and starts holding his hand when they walk.
At first, it’s just on the way home from work, but the handholding starts to carry over to other times.
Shouto likes it. Fans are always hassling him, asking for autographs and pictures. He doesn’t know how to say no. He’s ended up holding babies, meeting pets, walking old ladies home. Once he was being coaxed into escorting someone’s granddaughter to a wedding before Katsuki stomped up and scared them away.
When he holds Katsuki’s hand, people don’t bother him. It’s soothing. Like he doesn’t have to deal with the whole world, just Katsuki. And Katsuki’s easy.
The problem is that walking around the farmer’s market holding hands generates a lot of questions—questions that Shouto is not good at fielding. Katsuki ignores any question he doesn’t like, but Shouto’s fumbling through words like “roommates” and “old friends” and then “nice hands” slips in, and it all gets messy.
“It would be easier to just say we’re dating,” he tells Katsuki, even though he doesn’t want to date anyone.
Katsuki shrugs. “Tell them anything you want. I don’t care.”
Shouto wrinkles his nose. “But it’s not true.” Lying about Katsuki also seems bad.
Katsuki thinks for a minute. “How about I just kiss you then? On your cheek or something. They’ll draw their own conclusions.”
It’s a clever solution. People will think whatever they want, but maybe they’ll stop asking Shouto to explain it.
So Katsuki starts kissing him hello and goodbye. And that carries over, too. It’s not just out on the street. Sometimes it’s at home in their apartment. A thank-you for folding the laundry or a welcome home after a long shift. Shouto does it, too.
There’s something particularly nice about kissing Katsuki’s right side, where the scar runs along his cheekbone. It just seems like the place for it. And Katsuki is indifferent between Shouto’s right and left cheeks. It takes Shouto a while to get used to that, but he does. He stops thinking about his scar when Katsuki’s with him.
And it’s not long before they’re both distractedly going for a cheek at the same time and they accidentally meet at the lips. A soft, tea-scented peck on the street in front of the Endeavor agency.
Shouto blinks in surprise, but he doesn’t blush. It doesn’t feel awkward. Oddly comfortable.
“Excuse me,” he says.
Katsuki squeezes the hand he’s holding and gives him a small smile. He’s very close and his eyes are warm, not angry. “No big deal.”
It’s clearly fine. Katsuki always says if something isn’t fine—that’s one of Shouto’s favorite things about living with him—so it’s fine. Shouto doesn’t worry about it at all.
They start kissing on the mouth.
And for some reason, that seems different.
Not at first. It’s not until Shouto stops thinking about it. Just does it on habit and sometimes it’s really... distracting. Or actually, the opposite. Things sort of disappear. Go fuzzy. It’s like being wrapped up in a blanket, only it’s Katsuki’s attention.
And sometimes Shouto wants to be wrapped up and fuzzy. Like after a bad shift or lonely Saturday or a dinner with his father or even a dinner with his mother, who he loves. Katsuki will kiss him and Shouto will close his eyes and for a single breath, it’s all very quiet.
This roommate thing is really nice, actually. A year in, Shouto’s finding there are a lot of benefits he hadn’t even expected.
Katsuki isn’t always cheerful and fun. He’s surly in the mornings and bossy in the kitchen and if Shouto leaves dirty dishes on the coffee table or his clothes in the dryer, he will find them heaped in the doorway of his bedroom. But Katsuki also cooks for two and packs Shouto lunches and walks him to and from work. He makes it perfectly clear what chores he expects from a roommate, and they’re not too onerous.
And when Shouto asks if a second kiss would be okay one evening, when they’re sitting on the couch, Katsuki barely raises an eyebrow and says, “Sure.”
This isn’t one of the times that they kiss, but it seems like it might be nice.
“I’m just really happy we’re roommates,” Shouto says.
“Uhuh. Me too.” Katsuki scoots a little closer. His fingertips are light, turning Shouto’s chin. Then he leans in and Shouto closes his eyes, already humming happily.
Their lips press together for longer, that time, and longer is even better, like being dipped into a warm bath.
After a few slow breaths, Katsuki eases back and asks, with his lips almost brushing Shouto’s, “Good?”
“Good,” Shouto agrees. Katsuki’s eyes are exactly the color and warmth of brewed rooibos tea.
Katsuki settles back next to him, warm at his side. He picks up the remote. “We can kiss whenever you want.”
It occurs to Shouto that this is an odd situation. He doesn’t know anyone else who does this. “As roommates?” he asks.
Katsuki presses play. “Mmhmm.”
So maybe it’s weird, but Shouto has always been weird and Katsuki hasn’t ever seemed overly concerned with what other people do, so that’s fine.
They kiss. They kiss as much as Shouto wants and sometimes Katsuki’s the one who asks, so he must like it, too.
Shouto doesn’t remember who introduced tongue into the equation, but it’s hard to kiss for a long time without doing something a little more active. He always thought that was a little strange until he did it himself, and then it was just one more layer of nice.
Kissing for a long time can be hard on your neck, so they spend a lot of time lying on the couch. For a while, it was on their sides, but Shouto once tickled Katsuki by accident and he fell off the couch, so now they lay on top of each other. Katsuki likes to be on top, but it’s Shouto one lazy Saturday afternoon. Everything’s so slow and easy. There's nowhere to be so they kiss until Shouto’s shoulders get tired. He lays down on Katsuki’s chest to rest for a minute and suddenly Katsuki gasps and shifts under him.
Oh. Shouto’s hipbone is pressing into Katsuki’s... uh, his... erection. Katsuki’s hard, and that might be a problem. Shouto climbs off of Katsuki.
“I’m... sorry?”
Katsuki coughs and sits up. He wipes a hand over his cheek, which is pink. “It’s fine. Happens sometimes.”
When Shouto doesn’t say anything, Katsuki adds, “We don’t have to stop. Or we can.”
Shouto frowns at Katsuki’s crotch. “You’re not uncomfortable?”
“No. Like I said, it happens. Are you uncomfortable?”
The more Shouto thinks about this, the more normal it seems. For most people, laying on the couch and kissing would be sexual. It’s Shouto who’s different. “No,” he says. “So you’re attracted to me?”
Katsuki licks his lips and looks all the way up at Shouto. He hesitates long enough for Shouto to notice before he says, “Yes, I am.”
“As roommates?”
Katsuki smiles, closed-lipped. “Well, we are roommates, and I am attracted to you.”
“For how long?”
Another pause. “Since high school.”
“Oh,” Shouto says. Katsuki’s been attracted to him for a long time. And it’s been fine the whole time. They’re great roommates and Katsuki always tells him if something’s wrong. “Cool,” Shouto says, because he isn’t sure what word to use.
Katsuki smiles. “Wanna keep kissing?”
Suddenly Shouto can’t decide what to say. What seemed very easy two minutes ago isn’t quite so easy now. He feels a little... dumb.
It’s not like he doesn’t know about attraction or sex. He understands both. He knows he’s attracted to men. He knows he likes Katsuki. He knows Katsuki’s attractive. He’s just been keeping all three of those thoughts separate in his brain, and separate from whatever he and Katsuki have been doing here, in person, body to body.
But that’s his own weirdness. Most people don’t keep them separate. Katsuki probably doesn’t. Katsuki’s probably only seen the world from one angle, where affection and sex and happiness all connect in some way. But it’s not always like that.
The look on Katsuki’s face is like clouds gathering in the sky. How long has it been since Shouto said something?
Katsuki adjusts his shirt and stands up. “You know, I think maybe I’ll get in a workout this afternoon.”
“Okay.” Shouto’s relieved someone’s talking. “Have a good workout.”
Katsuki nods and walks out of the living room to his bedroom and shuts the door. He doesn’t kiss Shouto’s cheek on the way.
Katsuki goes to the gym, and as soon as the elevator dings in the hallway, Shouto grabs his jacket and heads to Izuku’s apartment.
It’s only a ten-minute walk, but he feels less good with every step. Something is wrong, and he doesn’t know if it’s on his end or on Katsuki’s, and he doesn’t know how to fix it.
He climbs the stairs to the second floor and knocks. Izuku answers the door with his cell phone pressed against his ear.
He looks at Shouto with wide eyes for a few seconds and then mouths “Hiiii” before waving him in with a weird smile. “I’ll just be a second, Shouto!” he announces, pointing Shouto towards the living room before he slips away somewhere to finish his phone call.
Shouto frets on the couch until Izuku emerges again.
“Sorry about that,” he says as he plops on a chair. “I was... not expecting...” he lifts his eyebrows and shakes his head a little. “Well anyway. How are you?”
“Katsuki and I have been kissing,” Shouto says.
“Ah, yes, I saw—” Izuku begins as Shouto tacks on, “as roommates.”
Izuku blinks and then finishes his sentence. “I saw pictures of you two in the news. Kissing.” He clears his throat. “I would have said something to you about it, but Kacchan made it very clear...” he trails off. He’s still blinking a lot, and speaking slowly. “He suggested that it wouldn’t be helpful to either of you to talk about your... roommate situation.”
Shouto shrugs. “Well, it was mostly for the press. The kissing, I mean. Because they wouldn’t stop bothering me about the hand-holding. Which was for my dad.”
Izuku’s eyebrows are very high. “I’m going to get a drink,” he says. “You want a beer? Keep talking.”
“I’m fine,” Shouto says.
Izuku heads into the kitchen. “So this kissing for the press...?”
Shouto makes a face. “Well, we actually did it a lot more than that. Like at home. On the couch. Once in my bed.”
“Mmhm,” Izuku says from behind a cabinet.
“Kissing is nice, you know?”
“Yes.” Izuku pops the cap off a beer and starts pouring it. “Super normal to enjoy kissing. I’m going to split this with you, okay? You don’t have to drink it.” He returns with two half-full glasses.
Shouto takes one and sips it. “But I realized today that Katsuki has been kissing me because he’s attracted to me. Sexually, I mean.”
Izuku nods. “And why is it that you’ve been kissing Kacchan? Because you have, right? It’s not just him?”
Shouto frowns, then shrugs. “I like him. I like being roommates. But now I’m worried that he and I were thinking different things. He might be thinking this is something more.”
“Something more than roommates kissing?” Izuku asks.
Shouto nods.
Izuku takes a long drink. “Shouto, Kacchan has been very emphatic and loud about the fact that I should keep my nose out of this. I’m going to ask, anyway. Are you attracted to him?”
Shouto pauses. “He’s... attractive.”
Izuku finishes his beer. “Okay, that’s not what I asked, but let’s move on. You like kissing him?”
“Yes.”
“But you think he may want more from you?”
“Yes.”
“Like what?”
“A relationship. Like he might want to date me.”
Izuku blinks at him again. “Date you.” He picks up Shouto’s barely touched beer and drinks it. “Shouto, you and Kacchan have come to every event together for the past year.”
“As roommates,” Shouto says.
“And as roommates, you hold hands and then go home together and kiss in bed.”
“Yes.”
Izuku finishes the beer and sets the glass back on the table. He stares at Shouto for a minute before saying, “Well, I think you’re in the clear then.”
“Really?” Shouto asks.
“Kacchan hasn’t asked you for more, has he? He hasn’t said he wants to go on dates? Something different than all the happy hours and movies and parties you already go to with him?”
“No...”
“Then he’s probably content with your rela—I mean, situation as roommates.”
Shouto narrows his eyes at Izuku. “Did he say something to you?”
Izuku swallows. “Nothing you would disagree with. He has emphasized that you two are very... well-suited roommates and that I should refer to you as... such.”
That seems reasonable.
“And stay out of it,” Izuku mutters.
Katsuki does like to keep his business private. Shouto probably shouldn’t ask, but Izuku is his best friend and he’s still unsure about this last part.
“Did Katsuki mention his erections?”
Izuku coughs violently and drains the last few drops lingering in the bottom of Shouto’s glass.
“No, he did not,” he chokes.
“It happens when we kiss,” Shouto says. “Do you think I need to do something about that?”
Still coughing, Izuku goes to the kitchen to fill the cup with water. He drinks and manages to say, “I don’t think Kacchan has any expectation that you will. You don’t need to.”
Shouto nods. That’s a relief. And yet...
“Would it mess up our roommates thing if I did?”
Izuku wipes his eyes with the back of his hands and blows out slowly. “Your roommates thing is pretty... flexible. I don’t think Kacchan would mind. Not that he’s told me anything.”
Hmm. As Shouto’s considering the possibilities, his phone chimes.
Katsuki >> I’m going by the store on the way home. Teriyaki salmon for dinner?
Shouto sends back a thumbs up.
Izuku puts on some American kung-fu movie and Shouto hangs out for a bit, but at five-thirty he heads home because Katsuki likes to eat at six.
Shouto hesitates a bit at the door of their apartment, but the sweet scent of teriyaki sauce and the sizzle of meat are comfortingly familiar.
Katsuki’s in the kitchen in his tank top, hair still damp from a shower. “Hey,” he says, glancing up before his attention returns to the pan he’s jostling on the stove.
“Hi.” Shouto slips off his shoes and comes closer. Everything seems normal. Katsuki doesn’t look annoyed.
“I’ll set the table.”
Katsuki nods and gestures with his chin toward the refrigerator. “I got wine.”
Sometimes they eat in front of the TV, but if there’s wine, Katsuki prefers the table. Shouto gets the corkscrew. The glasses. The napkins and cutlery.
Their table is small for four, but comfortable for two, tucked in the corner of the kitchen near a window. It’s already dark outside. Shouto waits until Katsuki’s sliding the salmon onto the plates to pour the wine.
“Good afternoon?” Katsuki asks as he carries the plates over.
Shouto nods. “I visited Izuku.”
“Mm,” is all Katsuki says.
“Good workout?”
“Yeah.”
The rest of dinner is pretty quiet, which isn’t unusual for them. The longer Shouto’s at home, safe and warm in their familiar space, the more peaceful he feels.
As Shouto’s taking the last bite of salmon, Katsuki says, “I hope I didn’t make you uncomfortable this afternoon.” His voice is as casual as if he’s reviewing their work schedules.
“You didn’t—” Shouto stops himself. Maybe that’s not true.
He sets his fork down on his plate as he considers. “I think I’m the one who made both of us uncomfortable. I didn’t know what to do about your erection.”
Katsuki gives Shouto a steady, wide-eyed look, like he’s forcing himself not to look away. He doesn’t blush this time.
“You don’t need to do anything about it,” Katsuki says evenly. He starts gathering up the dishes from the table.
Shouto picks up the wine glasses. “That’s what Izuku said.”
Katsuki freezes for a second before he turns away and walks toward the sink. “Oh yeah?”
His voice is light, but he’s not happy. Of course he’s not. He hates to be talked about, but it would be worse if Shouto hid the fact that he had discussed this with Izuku.
“Izuku said you’d probably be fine either way. If I did or if I didn’t. Do anything. About your erection.”
Katsuki pauses again. Shouto can see him in profile, eyebrows lifted, before he sets the dishes gently in the sink.
“I’m sorry that I discussed our kissing situation with him, I just didn’t know who else to talk to, and—”
“You can talk to your friends,” Katsuki says.
“I like being roommates so—”
“And he’s right,” Katsuki interrupts him again. He takes the glasses out of Shouto’s hands and turns on the hot water.
It takes Shouto a minute to rewind. “He’s right?”
Katsuki nods, gathering the dirty pans from the stovetop.
“That it’s fine either way?” Shouto asks.
“It’s fine either way,” Katsuki says. He reaches for the dish soap, but Shouto takes his outstretched hand.
“Okay. Thank you.” He gives Katsuki a sideways hug and a kiss on the cheek. “Thank you for cooking. I’ll do the dishes.”
Shouto goes to bed that night thinking that everything is fine. He made things weird, as he does sometimes, but they talked about it and everything will go back to normal.
But it doesn’t go back to normal. Katsuki stops kissing him.
Not completely—Shouto still gets a peck goodbye or hello. If he turns his head fast enough, it’ll land on his lips. If he asks for a kiss, he’ll get something more substantial. Breath and tongue and a hand at his jaw… but then it somehow fades away into a squeeze at the back of his neck and suddenly Katsuki’s up with some chore. That sort of kiss used to lead to more kissing, body-to-body kissing, laying-down kissing, and it’s clear now that Katsuki was the one who controlled the momentum.
Shouto doesn’t know how to do it. How to get it back.
Katsuki used to put his hand on Shouto’s lower back when they kissed. Under his shirt. Palm flat and warm against Shouto’s spine. Occasionally his fingers would flex, the heel of his hand would press. It was really… nice.
When they watched TV together, he would sling an arm around the back of the couch and sort of… rub his fingers idly on Shouto’s shoulder. Squeeze him when he laughed. It was a different way of being together. More together.
Everything feels less connected now. Lonely, even when they’re sitting next to each other.
It takes a week for Shouto to be certain. It’s different now, and all the ways he tries to fix the difference aren’t working. His kisses are clumsy. His hands are clammy. His arm goes numb on the back of the couch and he somehow elbows Katsuki in the head when he takes it back.
Katsuki laughs at him. Not meanly. His big smile’s so rare, Shouto is momentarily struck speechless at just how handsome he is. Katsuki’s the sort of handsome you see on magazine covers. The lines of him are just… sharp but soft? The angle of his cheekbone. The definition of his delts. Feels like it shouldn’t be real and sitting so close in the living room.
“Shou?”
His mouth is softer than Shouto’s, lips curving with exactly the right fullness.
“I said you wanna go to sleep? It’s almost ten.”
Shouto blinks back at Katsuki’s eyes. “Yeah. I guess so.”
Katsuki once came into Shouto’s room and kissed him on his bed. The pillow smelled like his hair after he left. It happened as easily as breathing. It hadn’t even occurred to Shouto as something unusual, and now he has no idea how to make it happen again.
After a very low-key goodnight, he gets into bed alone, and he sulks. Fumes? Wishes? Whatever, it isn’t pleasant. He’s sort of worried and sort of pissed. This whole thing was supposed to be easy. First the living together, the holding hands, the kissing. Shouto wasn’t trying to sign up for something complicated and now he’s losing sleep.
He tosses until after midnight and wakes late in the morning, irritable and resolved.
Katsuki’s sitting at the kitchen table with his phone and a cup of coffee when Shouto walks in. He says, “Good morning, coffee’s—”
Shouto cuts him off. “You’re not kissing me right, and I want to know why.”
Katsuki looks up from his phone, lips parted. “What?”
“You heard me.”
Katsuki purses his mouth, eyes casting down at his cup. “Can we talk about this at the table?”
At least he’s not denying it. Shouto didn’t know how he would handle that. It was frightening, the idea that Katsuki might pretend nothing was wrong. That Shouto didn’t understand.
He sits at the table.
“Do you want coffee?”
“No, I want you to kiss me properly.”
Katsuki’s mouth curls up at the side. “You haven’t even brushed your teeth.”
Shouto glares at him. “If you don’t want to anymore, you could at least say so.”
The amusement slides off Katsuki’s face. “That isn’t it at all.”
“Then explain.”
Katsuki thinks for too long before he says, “I thought maybe things were moving too fast. It was making you uncomfortable, so it seemed like we should reset a bit.”
“I wasn’t uncomfortable,” Shouto snaps. That was a very comfortable time in his memory.
“Actually, Shou, you said specifically that you were. Because you ‘didn’t know what to do about my erection.’”
Shouto huffs. That’s true, but… annoying, and incomplete. “Yes, but then we talked about it and you said it was fine either way and I believed you, but it must not be fine because you’re acting different.”
“It is fine, either way.” Katsuki says and sips at his coffee. “It just seemed like you didn’t know what you wanted to do, and I didn’t want to force you into making a decision so quickly.”
“How am I supposed to figure it out if you don’t let me try?!”
Katsuki’s eyebrows lift and he leans back in his chair. “I… don’t know?”
“I spent all week trying to—” Shouto cuts off, unsure what the right next word is. It isn’t seduce. That’s the only thing he can think of, but it isn’t right at all. The silence drags. “Trying to… be closer,” he finishes, frowning how poorly the words fit. He ought to be able to say this clearer.
Katsuki stares at him wide-eyed for a moment until his expression smooths back to normal. He pushes his chair back with a scrape and stands. “I didn’t realize. I’ll fix it. Let me get you coffee.”
He bustles around the kitchen while Shouto sits, starting to feel hopeful. Coffee arrives, hot and milky, in an orange cat mug.
“Drink that,” Katsuki says, squeezing his shoulder. “And don’t worry about this anymore. I have a shift starting in thirty minutes, but I’ll be home at four and I can kiss you properly then.”
That’ll have to do. Shouto looks up, feeling childish. “Fine.”
“Good.” Katsuki leans over him and presses their mouths together. Closed but soft. Lingering. It gives the impression of more. Shouto doesn’t know how he can do that with a three-second kiss, but he’s relieved.
It’s a lazy day off. Shouto works out, visits his mother, takes a nap, and waits. There’s a pleasant current of anticipation running through his veins. Katsuki will come home, and he’ll kiss Shouto properly. The kind of kiss that comes with weight and hands and warmth. The sort that sometimes makes you sigh, that little noise in the back of your throat. Satisfaction, that’s it. Shouto hasn’t been satisfied.
Except... Katsuki doesn’t come home.
Four o’clock comes and goes and Shouto sits on the couch frowning at his phone. Katsuki said “home at four,” and he’s precise, but maybe his shift ended at four? Ten minutes for a shower. Fifteen for the commute. Five more for buffer. Except 4:30 comes and goes, too.
And now Shouto is starting to get pissed. Pissed-slash-worried because either Katsuki decided that groceries were more important than kissing Shouto… or something happened during his shift.
He texts Katsuki twice. Brief. Annoyed. Nothing comes back, no matter how long Shouto frowns at his phone.
At 5:23 Shouto calls Katsuki’s agency. The receptionist answers.
“Genius office.”
“Is Bakugou there?”
She answers smoothly, almost before he finishes. “I’m afraid it’s our policy not to discuss the location of hero personnel, but the next public meet-and-greet will be Saturday-”
Shouto cuts her off. “This is Todoroki Shouto. Hero Shouto. His roommate.”
There’s a brief pause before she replies, “I see, Todoroki-sama. Unfortunately, the policy still applies.”
“But I’m his roommate,” Shouto repeats. And then, when she says nothing, “He should have been home already.”
There’s another, longer pause. She clears her throat. “I understand that you are Bakugou’s roommate, but you are not his emergency contact,” she stresses the words slightly, “and therefore I cannot share any information with you.”
Shouto’s mouth drops open. “I’m not? What do you mean? I’m his roommate.” He can stress words, too. Isn’t there a policy about that?
“I’m sorry, Todoroki-sama, that’s all I can say at this time.” She disconnects the call before he can muster another argument.
Shouto glares at his phone. What the hell? Katsuki is his emergency contact. Who on earth would Katsuki put down on that form if not Shouto?
Oh. Of course. It must be Izuku. At least, for now. Shouto calls him.
Izuku answers with a gasp. “Shouto! I should have called you.”
“So you’re Katsuki’s emergency contact,” Shouto says.
“Uh. Yes. I’m… sorry about that?”
“We can deal with that later. What happened?”
“Kacchan got hit with a —”
The end of his sentence is lost as Katsuki hollers in the background, “DO NOT!”
There’s a jarring clatter, a scraping noise, and an exasperated screech. “Kacchan.”
The next voice over the line is Katsuki’s, slightly winded. “Hey Shou. Everything’s fine. Don’t worry I’ll be back later tonight.”
Shouto stares at the wall, trying to figure out if Katsuki’s voice sounds different. Maybe more… raspy? Slightly? He does get hoarse if he yells a lot. Is that it?
“If everything is fine, then why weren’t you home at four like you said?”
“Oh shit.” There’s surprise in his voice like he didn’t even remember. “I’m coming home right now, give me fifteen minutes.”
“Kacchan, no!” Izuku shouts in the background. “If you take one step towards that door we’re restraining you again.”
There’s an odd sound over the line, almost like growling. Then Katsuki says, clearly irritable, “I will be home as soon—”
Shouto cuts him off. “I want to talk to Izuku.”
There’s a beat of silence before Katsuki says, “No need, we’re all good and I’ll—”
Shouto interrupts again. “I can talk to my friends right?”
More silence. Then a slow, grumpy exhale. “Of course you can,” Katsuki says in a strained voice. “Hold on a sec.”
He must have his hand over the mic because there’s a minute of absolute quiet before Izuku returns, voice awkwardly upbeat.
“Hi Shouto!”
“What did he get hit with?”
“Ah, uhm. What I can tell you is that Kacchan is… fine. He’d really rather I keep the details… confidential.” His voice trails off.
“I am his roommate,” Shouto says.
“Yes, I think I understand that fact as well as any person could,” Izuku says. “And still I’m in a difficult spot here, especially considering that Kacchan is in the same room and even more—uh—look, you’re going to have to wait for him to tell you himself, okay? I’m sure he will, eventually. Tomorrow.”
This is ridiculous. If neither of them will help him, Shouto will help himself. A few weeks back, Izuku shared his location with Shouto when he got drunk at Ochako’s birthday and needed a ride home. It’s still shared.
It takes five seconds for Shouto to pinpoint Izuku in the north tower of Musutafu General Hospital. It makes sense. They have a quirk isolation ward.
“Fine,” he says to Izuku. “I’ll give him twenty minutes.”
“What?” Izuku asks.
Shouto hangs up the phone and grabs his jacket.
He knows the hospital well—they’ve all been in and out of it over the past few years. Shouto was in the north tower last month, escorting one of their interns to the high-security tenth floor when he was hit with some sort of contagious sex quirk. But that can’t be what happened to Katsuki, because Izuku is with him. If he’s allowed visitors, he’ll be on the ninth floor, which, luckily, isn’t as secure.
Shouto takes the elevator up. If he’d thought about it, he would have put on his uniform, but it’s too late now. At least he’s recognizable without it.
The nurse at the desk looks up as he comes down the hall. “Can I help you?”
“Yes. Todoroki Shouto here to check on Bakugou Katsuki.”
She nods and looks at the computer. “Mmhm, you’re here from the agency?”
“I’m with the Endeavor Agency,” Shouto says.
The nurse nods again, then frowns. “But isn’t Bakugou-san with the Genius Agency?”
At that moment, the secure door behind her clicks open and a man in scrubs appears.
“Yes he is,” Shouto says, already moving toward the door. “No need to get up. Hero Deku knows I’m coming.” The man steps back and holds the door open for him and Shouto slips through before there are any more questions.
He hurries down the hallway, around a corner, and stops to text Izuku.
>>I’m here. What room is Katsuki in?
Two minutes later, Izuku appears around the far corner of the hallway, rubbing at his forehead.
“Hey Shouto. So you’re here, huh.” He sounds tired. “Good guess.”
“I tracked your phone,” Shouto says, coming closer.
“Ah. Let’s hold off on telling that to Kacchan, okay?” Izuku gestures vaguely down the hall and they walk. “He’s a bit volatile today and I’m tired of being yelled at.”
“What happened?” Shouto asks.
“I’m going to let him explain it,” Izuku says with a tight smile. “Here we are.” He reaches for the doorknob of room 936. “Kacchan, your roommate is here.”
Finally. Shouto hurries into the room to find Katsuki sitting in a hospital bed. He’s wearing a stripped-down version of his uniform with a hospital blanket pulled over his lap and he looks… perfectly normal.
“Hey Shou.”
Shouto frowns at him as Izuku steps in and shuts the door. “Katsuki. What happened and why didn’t you want me here?”
Katsuki grimaces and gestures at the visitors' chairs against the wall. “Have a seat and I’ll explain.”
“I’m okay standing,” Shouto says, stepping up to his bedside, but Katsuki tenses and clenches his hands in the blanket.
“God dammit. Deku.”
Izuku takes Shouto by the elbow and tugs him towards the chairs. “Let’s just sit. We’ll all be more comfortable.”
“Fine.” Shouto drops into one of the chairs and gestures for Katsuki. “Tell me then.”
Katsuki presses his lips together before saying, “This morning I was hit by a minor quirk that affected my behavior slightly. It’s no big deal, but we agreed I should come here until it wears off to avoid… inconveniencing anyone.”
Shouto has reached his limit. “Izuku, specifics. Katsuki if you interrupt him I’m going to ice your mouth shut.”
Izuku and Katsuki exchange looks with varied degrees of eyebrow raising for about ten seconds before Izuku sighs and rolls his eyes. “You know what? I will. Kacchan got hit with some sort of dog quirk. It’s subtle and it didn’t affect his appearance so it took us a while to figure out what was going on. By the time we did, he’d peed all over the agency, stolen the meat out of every lunch in the fridge, and bitten an intern.”
“God dammit Deku.” Katsuki’s face is bright red.
Izuku continues. “He’s fine most of the time, but he’s impulsive and distractible. He keeps forgetting and trying to leave, even though he knows that it would be very embarrassing for this to become a news story—right Kacchan? No peeing on the street?”
Katsuki’s got his face buried in one hand. He uses the other to flip Izuku off.
Shouto stands and reaches for Katsuki’s hand. “It’s just a quirk, Katsuki. It’s not your fault.” He’s trying to be comforting but Katsuki pulls away, looking even more tense.
“Could you please step back, Shou?”
Shouto frowns and looks at Izuku. “Would he really bite me?”
Izuku shakes his head, rolling his eyes again. “No way. He’s probably worried about humping your leg.”
“You’re dead, Deku!” Katsuki yells, trying to launch himself across the room. He doesn’t get anywhere. The blanket falls away revealing a thick strap over Katsuki’s thighs, holding him to the bed. He struggles for a minute, pushing at it and growling at Izuku, before he flops back to glare at him.
“Are the restraints really necessary?” Shouto asks.
Izuku rests his head against the wall behind him. “He was the one who insisted on it when you showed up, but I don’t mind not wrestling him every fifteen minutes.”
“Well, you needled him.”
Izuku gives Shouto an exasperated look before responding, “It’s been a trying afternoon.”
“Why don’t you go home then. I’m here now, so I can help Katsuki.”
Nobody says anything but Katsuki and Izuku are staring at each other again, clearly communicating in some way Shouto can’t understand.
“This is really pissing me off,” he snaps, waving a hand between their gazes. “If you both don’t start talking to me, I’m going to bite somebody, too.”
“Sorry, Shou—” Katsuki reaches for him, eyes all soft, before something else washes across his face and the gesture ends with him punching Shouto in the shoulder. Not hard. It seems like one of those things teenagers do with their friends, but nobody has done it to Shouto before.
Shouto stares in confusion at Katsuki’s hovering fist.
“What was that?”
Katsuki buries his face in both hands. “I don’t know.”
Behind Shouto, Izuku bursts out laughing. He climbs to his feet, still giggling into his hand. “Oh my god, you two. Okay. Shouto, Kacchan wants to have you close to him because he’s… fond of you. At the same time, he’s afraid to have you near him because he thinks he’ll do something to make you uncomfortable. The quirk makes it hard for him to control himself.”
The pout on Katsuki’s face tells Shouto that’s all true.
“Kacchan, now that Shouto understands everything, don’t you think he’ll be able to overlook any… indiscretion on your part? We’ve all been hit by weird quirks before.”
Katsuki’s expression sours and Shouto bristles. “Is that what this is about? You think I’ll fault you because you got hit with a behavior quirk?”
“I don’t want you to see me acting like an animal, okay?”
“I knew you in high school.”
Katsuki bares his teeth and snaps at Shouto, but there’s little anger behind it.
“See?” Shouto says, turning to Izuku. “Doesn’t bother me at all. I have this under control.”
Izuku hesitates, eyes on Katsuki. “Kacchan, it’s up to you. I think this will turn out fine, but if you want me to stay, I will.”
“Ugh, fine.” Katsuki leans back in the hospital bed and closes his eyes, blowing out a long breath. “Go the fuck home, Deku.”
“Okay. See you tomorrow Kacchan. Shouto, the quirk will probably last until morning. I hope you’ll be patient with him.”
“I’m always patient with him,” Shouto snaps.
Izuku half-smiles and nods as he gathers his gauntlets and respirator off the bedside table. He doesn’t say anything, just gives a little wave and slips out the door.
Shouto turns back to Katsuki, still lying with his eyes closed. Shouto is always patient with him, right? It’s not hard. Katsuki has mellowed since high school. At least, he has with Shouto. He’s always… huh.
He’s always accommodating Shouto, isn’t he?
Shouto looks at Katsuki’s hands, held carefully flat and still on the bed next to his hips. People always seem to think that Katsuki’s the one who’s hard to live with. But he’s not. Shouto’s the one who’s awkward and difficult. He doesn’t know how to cook or what’s an appropriate birthday present or when you should text instead of call or when it’s fine to get in bed with your roommate to kiss.
But none of those things make him anxious anymore, because Katsuki’s always patient with him. He’s always working so hard. Always thinking so hard. Maybe it’s good for him to let go sometimes.
Shouto nudges his shoulder. “Scoot over please.”
Katsuki’s nose wrinkles. “I don’t think it’s a good idea—”
“Izuku said you want to be close to me, is that right?”
Katsuki cracks an eye at him. “Yes, but—”
“Let’s do that then. You’re holding yourself so tense you’re going to be sore tomorrow. Just relax.”
“I really don’t think this is a good idea,” Katsuki says again.
“You don’t need to control yourself around me.” Shouto pats around under the bed until he’s able to unbuckle the restraints. Katsuki doesn’t move as he tucks them away.
“I think I do, actually.”
“I know.” Shouto sits on the edge of the bed, pushing Katsuki over with his hips. “I’m starting to realize how much you do it. And I appreciate that, but you don’t have to right now.”
Katsuki grunts as he shifts over. “The two of us are too big for this bed.”
Shouto manages to squeeze in next to him. “We’ll have to be very close then.” He takes Katsuki’s hand.
“Shou... this could mess up everything. I really think you should go home."
“But you promised you would kiss me today. And I missed you. And I was worried.”
Katsuki’s hand tightens around his. “I’m sorry you were worried.”
“Make it up to me.”
Katsuki sighs. “What if I do something you don’t like?”
“I like kissing.”
Katsuki turns towards him, reaching for his cheek. His thumb sweeps over Shouto’s lower lip. “There are a lot of things that aren’t kissing, Shouto.”
“I know.”
Katsuki raises an eyebrow.
“And I don’t know. It’s both. You’ll have to show me.”
Katsuki’s eyes dip down to Shouto’s mouth, but he’s still hesitating, so it’s Shouto who closes the gap. There’s that quiet moment when their lips press together. Katsuki’s mouth is warm and wet. His hand curls around Shouto’s neck and the world seems wonderfully slow.
Katsuki pours over him like hot tea. Shouto’s shoulders relax, all the tension from a week of worry and frustration evaporating with a sigh. The satisfied one in the back of his throat. And then Katsuki’s control begins to unravel.
His hand tightens in Shouto’s hair. It doesn’t hurt, the tug is kind of tingly as Katsuki angles their mouths for a better fit. Deeper. Then hungry. Bitey. Katsuki’s thigh slides over his lap and then he’s on top, angling Shouto’s jaw up with both hands. Shouto tries to keep up, but he’s too slow. He curls his hands around Katsuki’s waist, just to feel all the motion of him, and lets Katsuki happen to him.
Katsuki abandons his mouth for his chin. Down his jawline. Then his neck. He licks all the way from Shouto’s collarbone to his earlobe. That might be the quirk, but Shouto kind of likes the way it tickles. He turns his head to the side and Katsuki worms in closer with a groan, so they’re all pressed together. He takes a deep breath as he nuzzles his face into Shouto’s neck.
“God, I love the way you smell.”
Shouto combs his fingers into Katsuki’s fluffy hair. “Is that the quirk? Or do you always like it?”
Katsuki goes still against him. “Fuck. I just licked you.”
“That’s okay. I liked it.”
Katsuki sits back on Shouto’s thighs and gives him a suffering look.
“Sorry,” Shouto says. “I shouldn’t have said anything. Just go ahead.”
“Go ahead,” Katsuki repeats. “And you’ll just… be still for me? Let me lick you like a dog?”
That is what Shouto was planning, and he felt fine about it, but he can tell from Katsuki’s expression that it isn’t the right answer. Shouto does something a little… underhanded. He distracts.
“What do I smell like?”
Katsuki doesn’t notice Shouto dodging the question. He follows this new direction like a dog chasing a ball. He leans into Shouto’s hair and draws a deep breath. “Expensive fucking shampoo and fancy face lotion,” he says. “Like a pretty rich boy. But after a day in the field, you smell like camping. Sweat and smoke and marshmallows.”
Shouto smiles. “Marshmallows and smoke? You like all that?”
“Love it,” Katsuki rasps in his ear. “I’d lick it off you any day.”
Oh. Katsuki hasn’t said something like that before — not to Shouto — and the words slide over his skin like a tongue. Was this hiding under the surface all the time? Katsuki’s lust left simmering behind gentle, lazy kisses?
Shouto shivers and Katsuki freezes again. He lifts his head to look at Shouto and there’s so much thinking going on behind his eyes. He’s back in his head, bouncing in and out of the quirk. He’s trying to hide what he really wants.
Shouto laces his fingers tight into Katsuki’s hair. “Would you?”
Katsuki’s eyes refocus. “I’d do anything you wanted.”
What Shouto wants is to know what Katsuki wants. He’s only now realizing how much has been hidden from him, but he can’t ask for that. Katsuki’s too skittish, he’ll only pull away.
He says, “I want you to show me the things that aren’t kissing.”
Katsuki stares at him, mouth tight, eyes dark and dilated. His fingers twitch at the back of Shouto’s head and suddenly he melts. He falls over Shouto with a groan, mouth sliding hot against his. Body heavy and hard with muscles and other things, too.
“You don’t want this, Sho,” he says, even as he slips his hands under Shouto’s shirt and along his ribs, fingers pressing in. One hand shifts higher and grips Shouto’s collar from the inside, yanking it down and Katsuki swoops into his neck with what's almost a bite.
Shouto flinches in surprise and then says, “Don’t stop.” He wants the whole thing.
Katsuki growls and Shouto’s shirt disappears over his head. He’s shaking hair out of his eyes as Katsuki strips off his and his bare chest is… overwhelming. The flex of his muscles as he throws their shirts on the floor is like art.
Then Katsuki slides back over him. Slides all that skin against his skin and some sort of breathless groan chokes out of Shouto’s lungs. If he thought Katsuki’s hand on his back felt good… this is a hundred times more.
“Fuck. Shouto.”
They’re totally flat now, Katsuki wrapping Shouto up from above. Pressing them together in so many places. Katsuki nudges a knee between his thighs and he’s hard as steel against Shouto. He’s throbbing with it, like his whole body is pulsing—breath and heartbeat and hips.
It’s sort of like drowning, but pleasant. Katsuki’s feelings are always intense. His attention. His focus. His anger. Even his calm is contagious, making the whole world steady. But right now… right now it’s all this want and Shouto’s skin is prickling hot from the fire of it.
Being wanted has always seemed like too much pressure. A demand for something Shouto doesn’t have, or doesn’t know how to give. But Katsuki gives so much, he fills in all the gaps until it's easy.
“Shouto.”
Katsuki’s wormed a hand to Shouto’s lower back, and he’s using it for leverage, rubbing their hips together in long strokes and that feels good too, except they’re both wearing pants. Skin might be better. This is different than any way Shouto’s ever been touched.
Between kisses, Katsuki pants, “Is this okay?”
It takes Shouto a few seconds to respond, but Katsuki doesn’t stop anything. Not the kisses. Not the motion. “Yeah,” he mumbles against Katsuki’s lips. “I like it.”
“Are you…” Katsuki’s breath is hot against Shouto’s mouth. Then he shudders and turns his face into Shouto’s neck. The motion slows to a heavy drag. “… are you hard?”
Shouto stills in surprise. His whole body is so lit up it’s hard to focus, but… he shifts his hips.
“Yes.” It seems that he is.
Katsuki makes a ragged sound in Shouto’s ear. He shifts so he’s straddling Shouto’s thighs. Leans forward.
Shouto makes an equally ragged sound as Katsuki drags his erection over Shouto’s.
“Still good?” Katsuki asks, cheek pressed against Shouto’s like a brand.
“Yeah.”
Another rub. Another noise Shouto’s never heard himself make before.
“I’m going to embarrass myself,” Katsuki says.
Shouto shakes his head. “No. It’s good.”
“I’m gonna cum in my pants, Shou.”
“Take them off then.”
Katsuki groans. “No. That’s too much. You’ve hardly…”
Shouto reaches between them to slip his fingers into Katsuki’s waistband. “I want to take care of you, like you take care of me.”
“This is different,” Katsuki says weakly, but he doesn’t protest when Shouto undoes his button. The zipper. Shouto tucks his fingers into the elastic of Katsuki’s boxers, twists his hand until he can feel downy soft hair, and then slides further to grip Katsuki's erection, satin-smooth in his palm.
Katsuki doesn’t make a sound. His whole body is rigid, teeth denting his lower lip.
“Is this right?” Shouto asks, stroking.
Katsuki swallows. “It’s very, very, very right.”
Another stroke and his muscles start to relax.
“What about you?” Katsuki asks, shifting against Shouto’s palm.
“I don’t come very easily.”
“That’s okay,” Katsuki whispers. “I’d spend hours on you. Days.” His thrusts pick up speed—an easy rhythm. Not hard or fast, but steady and indulgent. “Just want you to feel good. Wanna be the one to do it. Can I try? Please?” The bed rocks slightly with his motion.
“Next time,” Shouto says, curling his thumb to stroke the head of Katsuki’s cock as he thrusts. “This is for you. I want to do this for you.”
“Shouto, I—” he stops with a frustrated grunt, teeth clenched.
“What?”
“Nothing. Feels good. That’s all.” He braces on his elbows, hovering right over Shouto, and kisses him. His eyes are closed and Shouto watches the quiver of his eyelashes and the furrow that deepens at his brow until Katsuki breaks away.
“Shou.” He makes a quiet, punched-out sound as he ejaculates, forehead-to-forehead with Shouto, eyes shut tight, like vision would be one input too many. He makes a mess all over Shouto’s shirt, but that doesn’t matter. Shouto liked it. He liked being the one to make Katsuki feel good.
After a few last shudders, Katsuki rolls off to the side, head on Shouto’s shoulder, one leg slung over his thigh, heavy.
Shouto curls an arm around him, feeling his ribs expand with deep breaths. “Was that good?”
Katsuki gives him one glance, a flash of red warmth, before he closes his eyes again. “Yes. It was fucking fantastic." He kisses Shouto softly on the collarbone. "Shouto, I want to…” he swallows like his throat is dry. “I want to be your roommate for a very long time.”
“Me too,” Shouto says. “I want that too.”
Katsuki’s mouth turns up at the side. “Good.”
“And I want to be your emergency contact.”
Katsuki laughs. “Yeah. Okay.”
—Five years later—
The party is Deku’s fault. Or Momo’s. Maybe both.
Katsuki's conniving “friends” waited until he was in the bathroom to float some sort of housewarming party idea. Katsuki can just imagine how it went down.
Deku saying, “You know, Shouto, a lot of people have housewarming parties when they buy a new place.” And Shouto saying, “Oh like that party Sero threw where everyone brought paper products and the police came?” And Momo saying, “Well, yes, but we’re older now. We could do something really special to celebrate how wonderful it is that you and Bakugou are buying an apartment together. To make it warm and homey.”
And all the while Deku and Momo are raising their eyebrows at each other and Shouto’s sipping his sake, totally unaware.
You’d think they’d done enough damage, selling Shouto on the idea of a party, but then Deku looped in Katsuki’s mother and suddenly it’s a black tie housewarming—a thing which probably didn’t exist until until she got involved.
Gifts have been arriving since the engraved invitations went out, and Shouto has opened each one with the sort of pleased bewilderment Katsuki should have expected from someone who never had birthday parties. A lot are cash—thank goodness Shouto doesn’t pay attention to money and doesn’t know that ¥30,000 is customary for weddings. Other gifts—the Turkish towels, the stand mixer, a set of saki cups with hand-painted kittens, are reverently unpacked and tucked into spots of honor.
“Is it really okay for people to give us things when we already have so much?” Shouto asks, turning the saki cups in the cabinet so that the kittens face out.
Katsuki pauses in the middle of sending a nasty text to Sero about the kitten-cups. “Yes. They want to.”
“Why?”
It’s tempting to say they’re doing it to spite him, but that would upset Shouto, and it’s probably not true. Despite the kittens.
“They’re happy for us,” Katsuki says. “Giving gifts makes them feel like they’re contributing to our… good fortune. They want to be part of it.” And that’s probably why Katsuki’s so put out by the whole thing. He’s been trying to keep everyone out of his relationship with Shouto for years.
Shouto nods, shuffling through the stack of brightly colored cards. “It’s nicer to think of it that way. Not just stuff, but wishes for our happiness. I'll remember that when we use them.”
Katsuki sighs and deletes the message.
A few weeks later, Katsuki’s standing in the living room of his new, Todoroki-nice, penthouse apartment, trying to stay out of the way of the caterers and not knock over one of the enormous red rose arrangements Momo brought by this morning. The one she put on the dining table is practically an art installation, surrounded by silver chafing dishes waiting to be filled with the "heavy hors d’oeuvres" his mother picked out. In the kitchen, a bartender in black is settling out champagne flutes. It’s all so much more bustle than he usually allows in his space. In his and Shouto’s space.
The only highlight to this whole thing is that Shouto looks shockingly handsome in a tux. Just really fucking obnoxious about it. You probably have to be born into money to wear it with such ease. Katsuki’s adjusted his cuffs once every five minutes since he put the thing on. Shouto probably hasn’t done that in his life.
He’s standing at their floor-to-ceiling windows chatting with Deku, looking stupid good. He’s actually styled his hair for once. It’s parted on the red side and slicked back with product, but a few locks keep falling onto his forehead. Katsuki might be staring while his mother goes on about music selection, and, of course, she notices.
“Hard to say who’s more handsome,” she says, tilting her head towards Shouto.
“I’m your son,” Katsuki says, even though they all know it’s Shouto.
“I know.” She reaches up to touch his hair and sighs when he tilts his head out of her reach. She adjusts his lapel instead, and they look at Shouto together.
“This is the only wedding I’m getting, isn’t it?” she asks.
“It’s a housewarming party, and yes.”
She purses her lips. “Well, buying a home together is just as big a commitment I guess.”
Katsuki doesn’t comment. He doesn’t need a ring or a deed to be committed.
“Especially in this building. Can’t believe they’d even have you.”
“Everybody loves Shouto,” Katsuki says.
“Yes, that’s true, isn’t it?”
Katsuki ignores her smug sideways glance and is saved by a knock at the door. Either some guest has shown up early, or there are more vendors. Perhaps a string quartet or a troupe of acrobats.
He opens the door to find the doorman and a cart of boxes. More gifts. “Delivery for you, Bakugou-sama.”
Katsuki groans inwardly. This isn’t a good time, but the boxes end up on the coffee table, and Shouto steps up with his box cutter and his eager eyes, ready to see what good wishes have arrived.
Shouto cuts the tape and opens the flaps to reveal a nest of cloth and foam padding. He rifles around delicately in the box until he finds an edge and pulls out a… plate.
“Oh.”
That’s all he says. Oh. All Katsuki can see is a white plate. “What is it?”
Shouto runs a fingertip along the edge. “It must be from my mother. It’s her wedding china.”
Katsuki stifles his reaction to the w-word from Shouto, of all people. Shouto who tries and fails to swallow his discomfort any time they receive a wedding invitation. Who ends up with emergency shifts or mysterious stomachaches on the day of the event.
Katsuki steps closer. The plate in Shouto’s hand is pearly white with an embossed swirling pattern along the edge that almost looks like snowflakes.
“I only ever saw it in the cabinet. We never used it.”
Klaxons are blaring in Katsuki’s head. Weddings and family memories are not the lead-in he wants for this party. He should have told the doorman to come back tomorrow. Better yet, to lose the packages.
“We don’t have to keep—”
“It’s pretty, right?”
Katsuki stops. Resets. “Yes it is. It reminds me of her.” Delicate and understated.
Shouto nods and looks at the remaining four boxes. “There’s a lot of it. Do you think it would fit in the cabinets?”
“Yes,” Katsuki says, relieved that now there’s an obvious correct response. “I’m sure it will.”
Deku, who has been hovering behind the sofa looking anxious, jumps forward. “Let me! No need for you two to move boxes on your big… day. I’ll get this squared away!” He starts shuttling the boxes away so quickly there are green crackles at his shoulders.
Katsuki’s still kind of reeling from anxiety when Shouto slips an arm around his waist.
“Izuku asked if I wanted to make a toast.” His voice is soothingly quiet in Katsuki’s ear, sliding under the chatter of six people in their kitchen. The clatter of plates in the cabinets. The ting of the bartender’s wine glasses. The metallic clang of servers setting trays on the wide marble island.
“Huh? Oh, yeah?” Katsuki asks.
“Before the cake. Apparently there’s a cake.”
“Of course there is,” Katsuki sighs. Giving his mother free rein with the caterer was a mistake. Then again, Shouto loves cake.
Shouto turns them so they’re facing the windows instead of the kitchen. The view faces west over the city, and the last amber rays are glowing between buildings, the rest of the sky already fading to indigo. The guests will arrive soon.
“Seems nice to make a toast. What should I say?”
Katsuki leans against his shoulder. “You should say, ‘Eat your cake and leave by ten so Katsuki can take me to bed.’”
Shouto smiles. “Maybe I should thank everyone for coming.”
Katsuki shrugs.
“And thank Momo and Izuku and your mother for throwing the party.”
“I suppose.”
“I could say something nice about you as well.”
“Like what?”
“Like how nice it is when you take me to bed.”
Katsuki elbows him in the ribs and Shouto kisses him on the cheek, right over the scar. Katsuki’s mother always said that kisses made scars fade faster. Katsuki would retort that he preferred to keep the scars.
“Do you ever wish I weren’t so weird?”
Katsuki glances at Shouto, well versed in his abrupt conversation changes. “No. Do you ever wish I weren’t such an asshole?”
“No,” Shouto says. “I think overall it works to my benefit.”
Katsuki huffs. “Same for me. You suit me.”
Shouto draws their clasped hands to his mouth and kisses the back of Katsuki’s. His lips are soft, warm, lingering. His gaze is serious under the sweep of red hair. “That’s why I want to be your roommate for a very long time.”
Katsuki stares into Shouto's cool, blue-grey gaze and suddenly all the words are stuck in his throat. Then again, they've never needed many words between them. He squeezes out, “I do, too,” and something settles in his chest.
It’s odd. They’ve been “moving” for months. Almost a year. Deciding to buy, finding this place, making the offer, getting the loan, signing the papers, packing, unpacking, shopping, fixing. There are pieces still unfinished, but this feels like the ending they were aiming towards the whole time.
Katsuki leans in closer. Tilts his head. His lip brush against Shouto’s once before his mother’s voice crows behind him.
“I hope we aren’t interrupting!”
Katsuki rolls his eyes as he pulls back. He can kiss Shouto later when there's no audience.
“What?”
His mother gestures to a woman next to her, dressed in plain black, carrying a leather satchel over her shoulder. “Katsuki, Shouto, please meet Sato-san. She’s one of the best photographers I work with. I thought it would be nice to have some pictures from tonight.”
There are bows all around and Shouto says, “I hope you’ll take lots of pictures of Katsuki. I’m still trying to get one where he’s smiling.”
Katsuki’s mother never misses an opportunity to butt in. “No time like the present!” She takes Shouto and Katsuki by the elbows and corrals them in front of the fireplace, the mantle is draped with green boughs and sprays of red roses. “Why don’t you get a few of these two before all the guests arrive.”
Sato pulls out her camera, looping the strap around her neck. “Of course! Look at all these roses! Is it your anniversary?”
“Housewarming!” Deku yells from the kitchen.
Shouto loops his arm around Katsuki’s waist and tugs him close. “That’s right. We’re roommates. Get one of us kissing.”