Work Text:
When Izuku wakes up, everything is blue — the light that filters in from an open window is tinged a deep blue that coats the room in it’s entirety, and there’s something special about this moment, like it’s some sort of magical hour. Everything is blue.
The sleeping body next to him stirs and blinks his eyes open; Izuku looks down at him with undisguised fondness as his eyes sweep his figure — even his blonde hair has turned a pale light blue, as though he’d been painted, and this was just a dream.
Izuku rolls over to face him, smiling softly when he groans and pushes his head back into the pillows.
“Five more minutes,” Katsuki mumbles into the pillow, and Izuku laughs and lies back down, snuggling into him. Katsuki murmurs something he can’t understand but opens his arms up, letting Izuku slide into his embrace and press his face into his chest. He peppers kisses along his collarbone and works his way up to his ear, grinning when Katsuki mumbles a, “stop,” when he nibbles on the shell.
“Get up, sleepyhead,” Izuku tries to roll out of bed to brush his teeth, but is suddenly stopped by the tightening of Katsuki’s arms. “Hey, you. We gotta go.”
Katsuki’s reply is a press of his face into his back and a kiss on the bare skin. It makes Izuku shiver. “No,” he pulls him back into the bed and wraps even his legs around him. “Stay.”
“Kacchan,” he rolls his eyes fondly, but relaxes into the warmth Katsuki seeps into his skin and closes his eyes.
They both end up being late.
from: Izuku
hello my dearest fiancé, the love of my life, my sun and stars, the one i will pledge my life to
from: Katsuki
what did i do
from: Izuku
did my honey bunny take my favourite hoodie that i love very much and wear all the time because it’s the most comfortable one i own?
from: Katsuki
[image attached]
got a problemfrom: Izuku
yes
fuck you
Katsuki can’t help it, he laughs and has to clap a hand over his mouth. The hoodie in question is currently draped over the back of his office chair, but now that he's been reminded of it, he takes it off the chair and shrugs it on; revelling secretly to himself the way it still smelt like orange and citrus. It was the body soap Izuku used that Katsuki refused to touch, one because he liked the way it made them smell different, two because orange? Really?
He snuggles into the oversized hoodie — Izuku in his years has grown broader than him, but what had first started as a slight to Katsuki’s pride eventually became an admittance of defeat, and now he even takes pride in it.
Because his fiancé is buff as hell and could beat you up any day, but out of the goodness of his heart he does no. Along the way as Katsuki grew up next to him he has learnt the value in being gentle, of being quiet, of taking a step back. Though longer as impulsive, he still left it to his fiancé to do the thinking and waiting and "ask before punching, Kacchan!" . Just because there was value in being gentle, it didn't mean that he had to be — he just liked to watch Izuku shut someone down passive aggressively, and then Katuski would step in to punch the lights out of him.
They are an unbeatable tag team.
“You’re whipped,” Sero says, with fondness, as he hands Katsuki a cup of coffee and tugs on the sleeves of the hoodie. Katsuki is still bitter he ended up at the same agency as Sero - not because Seo was weak, but because Sero was one of the few that actually dared to talk to him in this manner. “If you think I won’t notice what’s Izuku's, you’re wrong.”
Katsuki takes the cup of coffee but gives him a glare. “We’re getting married, I’m allowed to fucking do this.”
“Married, huh?” Sero taps his nose and prances away before he can punch him. Did Katsuki mention Sero was an asshole? Because he was. “If I told first year you that, what do you think you would do?”
Katsuki doesn't have to think. “I’d have killed you,” he says nonchalantly, and starts up his computer.
Sometimes, it doesn't quite sink in. He’s getting married to Deku, the kid he punished throughout his childhood and harassed during his teenager years — and yet somehow they ended up as friends again, tied by something stronger than just mutual affection, and then they were lovers, fierce and hard and desperate cries. He still remembers when Izuku had ended up in the hospital and Katsuki had to sit by his bed and think about all the times he’d done him wrong, all the things he wouldn't be able to make up for. During that dark, desperate time, he'd thought of way back when he'd told Izuku to take a swan dive off the edge of the school building, and regret had shot through him like a painful bullet. It had been a wake up call for both him and Izuku, a painful one that spoke of loss and bittersweet love.
And even after all this, all the times they'd nearly died together, it still shocked him when Izuku had told him, one night on a rooftop after patrol, cold air whipping about their faces —
“I want to get married to you,” he’d said, and there was no hesitation. It wasn't even a statement. He declared it, like it was something he'd never questioned in his life, a definite constant that kept him together. Katsuki had looked up at him, mouth dropping open —the moonlight framed his face; his hair rustled in the wind — his eyes were green, alive and wise — and Bakugou Katsuki nearly fell off the roof.
Thinking about it makes him blush, so he pushes his head back into his hoodie and takes a deep breath, flicks his eyes back to the computer and types:
Report #103-AB
Incident at 41D Miyagi Street.
fuck y'all for making me type this fucjing waste of time fuiewhf fuckers
Involved parties:
Owner: Ishida Aki
He barely remembers to delete the top line before he sends it off to the handlers.
He comes home to a cooked meal — it’s katsudon and smells like Jesus himself has prepared this dish, so he walks into the kitchen, wraps his arms around his fiancé’s waist and kisses his cheek. “Yo.”
“Hey,” Izuku laughs and turns around, kissing the corner of Katsuki’s lips. “Welcome home. Do you have my hoodie?”
Katsuki shrugs his shoulders and opens a pot at random — there’s miso soup inside. It smells homemade. His heart twists and he thinks, for once, how lucky he is, how easily he could never have ever had this in his hands. “What if I left it in the office?”
Izuku smacks his arm with the spatula. “How dare you,” he sticks his tongue out and lowers down the heat. “If you did, you don't get any katsudon.”
“You wouldn’t fucking dare,” Katsuki threatens, spinning him around and pressing him into the counter. Izuku’s gaze drops for a millisecond to his lips, then he’s pushing at his chest and laughing.
“Anata, let me up,” Izuku squirms and gives him doe eyes. “I don’t want things to burn.”
Katsuki doesn’t take the hint, he tilts Izuku’s head up and kisses him with full intent, his pressure insistent, his body unyielding but for adjusting himself to the curve of Izuku’s body, something he'd long since committed to memory.
Izuku kisses back with the same intensity, pushing his hands up into his hair and rolling his hips gently; he is warm and supple and pliant beneath him, and Katsuki ghosts his fingers across his shoulders and runs them gently down his arms. Izuku shudders beneath him, then pushes him off — Katsuki stumbles backwards and hits the opposing counter with a grunt.
"You need to shave," Izuku laughs and crosses over to him, rubbing the side of his cheek on Katsuki's stubbly chin.
"You need to stop," Katsuki grips his face with both hands, kisses the now slightly red side of his face and spins him back around to look at the food. "I'm an expert on smoke and I think something's fucking burning."
Izuku blinks, sniffs the air, and then smacks Katsuki's shoulder as he hurries over to the pans. "This is your fault."
“Yeah, yeah,” he waves his hand and grins at him, then steals a handful of lettuce and runs out of the kitchen to the tune of Izuku’s affronted shout.
The shower has great water pressure, Katsuki rolls his shoulders and flips through a book Eijirou lent him a couple of days ago on the sofa. It was a good choice.
The book itself is pretty boring, but it's actually quite relatable. It talks about whether a personality is shaped by a quirk or the other way around. Occasionally as he flips through it, he thinks of Izuku, and how being born without a quirk made him resilient to anything that came his way.
He looks up to see Izuku trodding over, hair fluffy and sticky-uppy from the hairdryer. He looks ridiculously cute for a twenty seven year old man, and it almost makes Katsuki clutch at his heart to make sure it's still working. "Hello," he says as he flops down and lays his head in Katsuki's lap.
When Katsuki merely nods in acknowledgement and turns back to his book, Izuku sighs and whines, "Kacchan." Katsuki looks away from his book to see Izuku looking at him with the expression that means he wants attention but doesn't want to say it, so he closes his book and pats his head.
“What's up?”
Izuku grins at him and closes his eyes happily. “Whatcha reading?”
“Some dumb book on the nature of quirks,” Katsuki makes a face and looks at it. “It’s kind of boring.”
“Read it to me,” Izuku readjusts his head and blinks up at him expectantly.
“What, out loud?”
“Yeah,” he smiles. “I like your voice, Kacchan.”
Katsuki blinks down at his open expression and turns red, so he grabs the book and starts reading.
“Arguably,” he clears his throat. It still sounds gruff, but that could be because Izuku is rolling about on his thigh and staring up at him. “One could say that the nature of quirks is such that it entirely shapes the personality that the child shows; if the child has a water quirk they are likely to be calm and fluid, whereas if they have a mutant quirk they’re likely to either feel outcasted or have exuberant personalities. However, a common counterargument is that…”
Somewhere along the way, Izuku falls asleep, but Katsuki can’t bring himself to mind. Instead he presses a kiss to his forehead and scoops him up, bringing him their bedroom and throwing a blanket over him. Izuku got cold really fast, it wasn't even funny. He got sick just as fast too. As he turns to leave, however, Izuku latches onto his wrist and blinks sleepily up at him.
“Are you coming to bed soon?” he asks, a little plaintively, and a lump forms in Katsuki’s throat.
“Yeah, babe,” he swallows thickly, and tugs his hand away. “Go to bed first.”
“‘Kay,” Izuku says, and smiles at him. “I love you.”
Katsuki’s whole body shudders. Sometimes, he would tell you he didn't think never thought that he deserved this, this whole-hearted, unashamed love that Izuku just radiated — couldn't think of why Izuku would give it selfishly to him, that this soft boy with a softer smile and a gentle face and bloodstained fists could be beautifully his.
The silver band around his finger reminds him of what they’ve promised.
“I love you too,” he says softly, and Izuku hums in contentment.