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“You look fuckin’ stupid, Deku,” Bakugou drawled as Izuku climbed into the passenger seat of his car.
“That’s mean, Kacchan,” he replied on instinct, barely even registering the insult, as he slammed the door shut.
“Thought you were going to wear a suit,” the blonde said, gesturing at the garish, fuzzy, red monstrosity Izuku wore over khakis and dress shoes. The sweater was huge and had ‘UGLY CHRISTMAS SWEATER’ stitched across the front in massive block letters. It swallowed the green-haired man completely, made him look more like the plucky twerp he had been in at U.A., rather than the member of the number one hero team in the world he was now.
He was fucking adorable.
“I was, but Uraraka bought me this sweater! Isn’t it great?” he chirped, adjusting the halo of golden tinsel nestled in his curls.
Bakugou grunted in assent, willing the heat in his cheeks away.
“You look nice, Kacchan,” said Izuku. Bakugou was clad simply but elegantly, a black fitted suit over a black button-up.
“Thanks for picking me up,” he continued, smiling brightly at Bakugou across the car’s center console.
Katsuki flicked his eyes over to Izuku, felt his cheeks heat up again, and quickly locked his gaze on his knuckles, white on the steering wheel. He started the car, started to pull down the street. Izuku squawked and buckled himself in quickly.
“Did you remember to bring anything for the potluck? I only got wine, but it can be from both of us, if you want,” chattered Izuku, patting the bag on his lap, “but I can’t help you if you forgot your Secret Santa again!”
Bakugou scoffed.
“I brought the damn thing. Both of ‘em,” he said.
“Did you make sausage balls?” asked Izuku, twisting around to look in the back of the blonde’s hatchback. His eyes locked onto the massive Tupperware container that Katsuki only ever used for one thing: the magical Bakugou family sausage balls. Two gift bags flanked the container.
“Why do you have two presents, Kacchan?” Deku asked, curious.
“Don’t ask dumb questions,” he snapped.
Izuku fell silent for a few moments. Traffic thickened as they approached the city center. Brake lights lit up the car, turned their skin red. Izuku looked over at his partner, marveled at his relaxed, neutral expression. The dull glow of traffic almost imitated the fading light of fires set by his explosions during their missions.
“Can I play music?” he asked. Bakugou sighed, nodded. Izuku selected a song at random, tapped his fingers on his knee to the tune.
They rode the rest of the way in silence. Bakugou mentally tallied up the number of times that he and Deku had carpooled to work or some other event, and became increasingly alarmed as he realized just how often it had happened lately. Izuku focused on the music and tried his best to make sure the songs stayed about mysterious strangers, not a hotheaded, red-eyed blonde that he knew everything and more about.
Their agency had valet parking. They didn’t typically take advantage of that fact, but tonight Katsuki had tossed the half-asleep, pimply teen at the station his keys after unloading his gifts and snack.
They decided to take the elevator. Izuku pressed the level button. Katsuki kicked the close door .
Izuku wondered when he’d become so comfortable with silence.
Katsuki wondered when he’d become so comfortable with Deku.
A collective screech echoed through the crowd when they emerged on their floor. Their coworkers descended on them, hooting and cheering. Several hands reached out to clap Midoriya on the back and to be smacked away by Bakugou.
Katsuki wormed his way through the crowd to the food table and laid down his humble offering. He grabbed a plate and loaded it down with hors d'oeuvres, then dropped off his Secret Santa in the designated pile.
He looked longingly at the drink table, now regretting volunteering to be designated driver just a little bit.
“I can drive back, if you want,” a voice whispered. Katsuki nearly jumped out of his skin and spun around, palms spread, ready to fire off at any threat.
It was just Deku.
“A-ah, Kacchan, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to scare you!” he stammered, quite obviously trying to stifle his grin and laughter.
Katsuki huffed.
“Wasn’t scared,” he muttered before shoving an entire mini cupcake into his mouth.
“Of course you weren’t, Kacchan,” Deku agreed, hiding his smile with a cupcake of his own.
Katsuki chewed, swallowed.
“I’ll drive. I said I would,” he inspected the various cheese cubes on his plate before choosing one that looked like pepper jack.
“Are you sure?” asked Izuku. The blonde nodded, gestured (quite aggressively) for Izuku to go get a drink. Izuku looked at the table once, then back to Bakugou.
“I don’t really want to, honestly,” he said, letting his gaze trace over the messy scene before them.
The other hero pairs from their agency obviously had a head start on everyone else. The sidekicks were huddled up in the corner, looking more like a flock of frightened middle-schoolers than heroes-to-be. Support company representatives and their plus-ones milled about with plastic glasses of cheap wine. Several people from the accounting department seemed to be starting a silent disco in the corner.
“I’d rather people-watch tonight, I think,” continued Izuku. He chuckled.
Bakugou hummed. He sat down his plate, turned, and just let himself look at Izuku.
Even when he wore a halo of tinsel and a fluffy sweater, Izuku cut an intimidating figure. The hero was on the shorter side, but he was cut, compact, agile. He’d finally grown out of his baby face; his freckled cheekbone could probably cut diamond.
Katsuki knew that Izuku got 5 o’clock shadow on his third day without shaving. He’d found that out during their first year as hero partners; they were on a stakeout mission for two weeks, and Deku had forgotten his razor.
Coincidentally, Katsuki had also learned that he could be into a little bit of scruff on that mission.
Izuku kept his hair buzzed on the sides but long on top. The PR people loved it, said it brought out his boyish charm. Deku once told Katsuki that he left the top long for his mom because she loved to brush it.
Katsuki liked it long, too.
Izuku’s eyes were a stupid color. Stupid was the word that Katsuki used mostly because he couldn’t describe the actual shade. They were green, he supposed; but it wasn’t a normal green, no, not your run of the mill grassy, leafy bullshit. No, Deku’s green was spring. Rebirth. New growth. Life, even in the corners where you least expect it.
Trust, even when it’s unearned. Faith, even when it’s undeserved.
Deku’s eyes were the color of second chances.
Their relationship thus far in life had been very all-or-nothing, Katsuki mused. All-in rivals who knew barely anything about one another other than that they had to be the best. They could read one another like a book, analyze every breath and predict every movement, but couldn’t even name the other’s favorite color. They couldn’t talk with their mouths- and so they resorted to fists.
All-in partners, both aiming for the top, each seeing the other as just a stepping stone on their individual path to greatness. They turned their fists away from one another and out towards the world, crushing the competition. They developed their own language, all hand signals and code, but still couldn’t say a damn word.
Recently, Katsuki kept thinking that he’d like more all and less nothing.
He wanted to be all-in lovers, two bodies becoming one, crashing like waves against one another, caressing skin, breathing one another in and out again, reaching the top together, over and over (and over and over). Equals, taking one another apart and putting them back together again.
He really fucking hoped Deku wanted the same thing.
So, he’d ordered a gift. A simple thing, just a chain bracelet with a small plate for an engraving. He’d made sure to get it made out of the most indestructible material possible, since Izuku tended to break things (including himself) in the line of duty.
He hoped that Deku would understand what he meant.
The gift was currently dangling from his elbow; the bag was black with red ribbons serving as a handle; he’d carefully packed it full teal wrapping paper. The box was rattling around in the bag with his every move, rustling the paper and denting the bag. It was making him even more nervous.
“Oi, Deku,” he blurted, accidentally interrupting the green-haired man’s conversation with Mei Hatsume and the short, pretty girl plastered to her side. The green-haired man trailed off, looked at him expectantly. Mei fixed him with a glare. He ignored her and her unsettlingly yellow eyes.
“I need some air,” Katsuki said, jerking his head towards their office’s balcony. He turned, marched towards the glass doors without waiting for a reply, willing himself not to chicken out.
“Ah, okay, Kacchan,” Izuku smiled apologetically at Mei, then scurried after the blonde. Katsuki held open the door for him; cool city air rushed through the entrance, stark against his face after the warm stuffiness of the party.
Izuku took a deep breath and sighed, content. His breath turned to steam in the cold air, swirled up and disappeared among the clouds. Katsuki leaned against the balcony, let his gaze sweep over Tokyo’s skyline.
“We’re partners,” he began, keeping his eyes locked on the city they spent their lives protecting.
“...Yeah?” Izuku replied, just a little bit confused. He stepped forward, folded his elbows and rested them on the cool metal railing, leaned up next to the taller man.
“I got over my bullshit,” Katsuki continued, “I stopped hurting you, I hope.”
He turned to Izuku. The city lights caught his eyes, made them glisten and gleam, more beautiful than the finest gems.
“I told you, Kacchan, I was never angry,” Izuku said softly.
“You know me better than anyone,” Katsuki plowed on, ignoring Deku’s protest. He pulled the gift down his arm, clenched the ribbons in a tight fist. His cheeks turned a pretty pink, and he sharply turned his face away from the shorter hero. He shoved the bag towards Izuku.
“Wh-what’s this? We never do gifts,” Izuku sounded alarmed, “so I didn’t get you anything!”
Katsuki slapped the bag against his chest.
“Just open it, dammit,” he snapped, still not meeting Izuku’s eyes.
Izuku took the bag. He just stared at it for a few moments, incredulous. Katsuki was dizzy. He felt like he was going insane. If the damn nerd didn’t open the stupid thing within five seconds, he was going to rip it open himself.
Scarred hands gently pulled out the teal paper. It wrinkled, made that crackling noise that always drove Katsuki up the damn wall.
Izuku pulled out the small velvet box, stuffed the paper back into the bag, let it drop to the ground. Slowly, slowly, he opened it, the small hinge letting out a tiny creak.
ニ人は一番
Green eyes welled with tears.
“We’re the greatest team in the world,” Katsuki choked out, forcing himself to say the words he never thought he would, never thought he could.
“And I wanna- I wanna stay that way, Deku.” he said, finally looking up at the other man. Ruby eyes met emerald.
Izuku was silent. He pulled the bracelet from the box, closed it, shoved it in his back pocket haphazardly. He laid the chain across his left wrist, tried to fasten it with shaky fingers.
Katsuki reached out and clasped it for him, hands gentle. When he went to let his arms fall back to his sides, Izuku stopped him, grabbed him by the forearms, pulled him close.
“I’m in love with you, Deku,” Katsuki whispered shakily, a confession spoken like a prayer. Izuku wrapped his arms around the blonde’s waist, pressed his face to his neck, breathed in the familiar scent of nitroglycerin and cinnamon. Katsuki froze. A tear fell onto his collar.
“I’ve loved you longer than I’ve known what love is, Kacchan,” Izuku murmured, lips barely brushing against pale skin.
Katsuki brought a hand to the back of Izuku’s neck, splayed his fingers wide. He chuckled.
“We’re so stupid,” he turned his face, buried his nose in green curls, pressed a kiss to his partner’s head.
“The world’s biggest idiots,” Izuku agreed.
He brought his head back up, smiled at Katsuki, impossibly wide, a beacon of sunshine in the dark, chilly night.
Their breath hung in the air between them, mingled, spiraling clouds of mist.
The first kiss they shared was warm and soft.
Katsuki knew, beyond the shadow of a doubt, that he would never have a first kiss again.