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They’d finished dinner, scraped all the potatoes into a container, wrapped up the leftover ham, discreetly slid the cranberry sauce into the trash when his stepfather wasn’t looking, and settled into the living room, full and satisfied.
The Christmas tree twinkled in the corner, each ornament a glass-shaped, glimmering memory.
Izuku was convinced that he was going to sweat directly through his thick, corded sweater.
He really shouldn’t have worn this many layers- a woolen sweater over a long-sleeve button-up, really, tonight, probably the most important night of his life, he was such an idiot.
“Quit mumbling, nerd,” his boyfriend knocked their shoulders together, bringing him out of his reverie.
Holy shit. Izuku was glad he’d shut him up when he did.
He turned to Katsuki, shot him a sheepish, nervous grin.
He quirked one blonde eyebrow at him.
“You okay, ‘Zuku?” he asked, low, “You’ve been acting weird all night.”
Izuku frantically waved his hands around in dismissal.
“Fine! Fine. I’m totally fine,” he stammered. He glanced over to the Christmas tree and the gifts underneath it, his gaze locking onto one especially large box tucked back in the corner against the wall.
Katsuki let out a quick chuckle.
“Someone looks pretty excited to open gifts,” a deep voice rumbled. Izuku shot a panicked look over at Toshinori. He was tucked into a huge, squashy armchair, his legs splayed wide, thin arms resting on his knees. He grinned at his stepson and winked.
Izuku looked like he was going to hyperventilate. Katsuki watched the interaction, befuddled.
Inko finally plodded in from the kitchen. She settled onto the couch on the end closest to her husband and smiled softly at her son. Katsuki thought he saw something… different than in her kind eyes.
Izuku hopped up and scurried over to the tree, immediately bent over, grabbed a handful of gifts. Katsuki made to stand and help, but when Izuku and Inko noticed, they both yelped, “No!”
Something weird was going on here.
Katsuki sat down slowly, shot a suspicious glance at both of them.
They opened the presents in relative quiet, exchanging soft ‘thank you’ s and ‘you’re welcome’ s. Inko gave them all hand-knitted sweaters. Katsuki’s was black; an orange, red, and yellow fireball was stitched onto the front. He pulled it over his head without hesitation, shoving down the lump in his throat.
The fact that Inko accepted him without hesitation when Izuku told her that they were together, swept him into a hug and whispered that if Katsuki made her son happy, that was all that she could ask for, even after all those years of hurt and anger between them- it amazed Katsuki. He was grateful. So, so grateful.
Izuku scooted the huge present out from underneath the tree. He knelt down, wrapped his scarred arms around the box, and lifted it up with seemingly relative ease. The present was wider than Izuku’s chest and almost matched the length of his torso. The tips of his fingers just barely brushed one another along the front of the package. It slid down out of Izuku’s grasp, just a little bit; the shiny wrapping paper squeaked against the pads.
The green-haired man sped up, nearly tripped over his own feet in his haste to get across the room. He stopped in front of his boyfriend, breathing hard. Katsuki raised his eyebrows. The package must be heavy.
Izuku plopped the box into his boyfriend’s lap without warning. Katsuki grunted, expecting to have the wind knocked out of him. It wasn’t.
The box was actually incredibly lightweight for its size. It obscured his vision- all he could see was Izuku staring down at him, eyes wide and worried.
Katsuki scoffed, met his boyfriend’s eyes, smiled, small and private.
“What, Deku? You think I won’t like it?” he asked, bringing his hand up to the side of the package and sliding his finger under the carefully-folded crease of the wrapping paper. Izuku didn’t reply- he just chewed on his lip.
The blonde tore into the massive package in his lap, peeling away the first layer of shiny red wrapping paper patterned with glittering white snowflakes. The box underneath was plain brown cardboard lightly taped shut, and gave no hint as to what was within.
Katsuki pushed the box off into the floor and ripped it open eagerly. He pulled out the tissue paper packed into the box-
And was met with another box, this one wrapped with paper patterned with green holly and gold ribbon.
His face fell into a scowl. He looked up at Izuku, whose face had transformed from tense and anxious to positively delighted. Katsuki glanced around the room. Inko had one hand pressed against her mouth, cheeks ruddy. Toshinori’s face was impassive.
“Go on, Kacchan!’ Izuku urged, nodding at the package. Katsuki shot him a glance, then gingerly lifted the smaller box out of the larger one. A single piece of tissue paper stuck to the side. He ripped it off, balled it up, and tossed it back into the large box.
He peeled off the paper, popped open the box, faster this time.
Izuku’s smile grew impossibly wider.
Another box stared up at him. Smaller. Blue paper. Glittery.
He looked up at Izuku. He was definitely getting a little bit irritated. To say the damn least.
“Deku,” he said, tersely, “seriously? You pullin’ this kind of thing?”
Izuku was still standing there, still staring down at him, still smiling.
“Keep going, Kacchan,’ he said softly, “please.” He chewed on his lower lip, barely noticeable. He did that when he was scared, Katsuki knew.
He sighed.
Unwrapped.
Opened.
Stared at another, smaller box.
Unwrapped.
Opened.
Stared at another box. This one was different.
Instead of wrapping paper, this one was enveloped in a photo. Katsuki felt his heartbeat speed up.
Katsuki took his time pulling the picture off of the box. It had been resized, printed on some simple paper- but he would recognize the photo anywhere. He set the box aside, smoothed the photo out on his knees.
It was a selfie that they had taken last New Year’s Eve. Or, well, Izuku had taken as Katsuki had pulled him in by his scarf (hand-knitted by Inko, of course) and kissed him stupid in the shadow of the fireworks.
Izuku gently slid the photo out of his grasp and placed the box, less than an eighth of the size of the original, onto his lap. Katsuki looked up at him. His green eyes were soft.
Katsuki opened it.
Another photo of them, a candid. Ochako had taken it when they had all gone to a waterpark two summers ago. Katsuki and Izuku were wrestling in the kiddie pool , of all the dumb shit and dumb places. The water caught the light and reflected it into the camera. They were laughing.
Vaguely, Katsuki was aware that Inko was crying. Toshinori was laughing.
He closed his eyes, took a deep breath in, then opened the box.
A Bed Bath and Beyond giftcard sat nestled in the tissue paper.
“CONGRATS!” it exclaimed in thick blue block letters.
Katsuki chucked the box at Izuku with all the force he could muster. The freckled man managed to catch the box, but the contents, the giftcard and another box, clattered to the floor.
“I don’t even go to Bed Bath and Beyond!” the blonde screeched, kicking all of the ridiculous packaging out of the way and standing up. He heard the shutter of a camera clicking furiously.
Izuku bent down and picked up the box. He still wore that stupid grin. He grabbed one of Katsuki’s hands and pressed the last gift into his palm.
“You gotta finish it, Kacchan,” the shorter man whispered. His voice wavered in that way that it always did when he was trying not to cry.
Katsuki huffed, muttered, “You’re lucky I love you,” and snatched the box away from Izuku.
Red eyes fell on the final photo; he barely heard Izuku’s small, “I know.”
It was old- really, really old; they were little, tiny , couldn’t be any older than three or four. They were nestled on a couch- the one Inko was currently crying on- piled up on one another, fast asleep. Katsuki’s mouth was wide open, his face pressed firmly into the cushion from the weight of Izuku’s head on top of his.
They wore matching All Might pajamas.
The box in Katsuki’s hand suddenly felt a lot heavier.
Gently, he pulled the photo off of the box. His fingers brushed across velvet.
Fuck.
Slowly, slowly, he looked up from the box in his hands.
Izuku was on one knee in front of him, surrounded by an absolute mess of wrapping paper and bows and boxes. His emerald eyes were shining with love and joy and hope and fuck, he was so fucking beautiful.
Bakugou dropped down to his knees, pressed his forehead to Izuku’s, squeezed his eyes closed and willed himself not to cry.
“Open it, Kacchan,” Izuku whispered,
“If you’re gonna do this, do it right,” said Katsuki, his attempt at a growl coming out as more of a choked sob. He shoved the box into Izuku’s fucked-up, scarred, beautiful hands. He took it, turned it towards Katsuki, and opened it without hesitation. The hinge squeaked.
A simple ring sat tucked between two tiny velvet pillows. The band was steel grey, so dark it was almost black; it twisted around two gemstones inlaid impossibly close to one another, the metal intertwining them, binding them together. A fire opal. An emerald.
“Will you marry me, Kacchan?” asked Izuku. His voice was still faltering, but his eyes were dry.
“What kind of question is that, Deku?” Katsuki replied, low.
Izuku froze. His stomach turned to ice.
“Of course I will. Idiot.” the blonde whispered.
He brought his hands up to Izuku’s cheeks, cradled them, ran his thumbs over those freckles. The shorter man chuckled breathlessly with relief. He pulled the ring out of the box with shaking fingers. Katsuki dropped his hand, let Izuku slide the ring onto his finger, and God if it didn’t feel so perfect.
Izuku was crying, now. So was Katsuki. The blonde kissed away Izuku’s tears like he’d done so many times already in their life together, swept his fingers across his cheeks, pressed his lips to his nose, his forehead, every single bit of skin that he could reach.
“Of course,” he repeated.
The shutter was still clicking.
Another one for the books, Katsuki thought with a grin.
Izuku kissed him.