Work Text:
It feels somewhat strange to be back home, to not wake up to the sound of others going about their daily routine.
At the same time, Katsuki fucking loves it.
He sighs in bliss, ready to settle back down for some more sleep before getting up for the day. He doesn’t have any fuckers to disturb him, at home. And then:
“Katsuki!!!! You better up in the next ten minutes, brat!!!” his mother yells from downstairs.
Okay, forget everything he’s just said, he wants to be back at the goddamn dorms. At least there, it would be his friends asking for last minute help or some shit, not a well-meaning old hag screaming at him every other minute. He’d never thought he’d say it, but he misses those dipshits.
From the corner of his eye, Katsuki sees his phone light up, and he reaches for it without thinking.
Shitty Hair , two seconds ago
Hey bro! I could really use your help with some of this homework!! It’s okay if you can’t dude, I totally understand :p
How does that shitty saying go? Be careful what you wish for?
***
Breakfast is a surprisingly quick affair, considering that his mother usually likes to sit him down and give her a second-by-second account of every single moment spent without her. Somehow, all he has to say is:
“Shitty Hair wants help with his homework.”
Suddenly, his mother doesn’t seem so interested in knowing what shade of black he was wearing last Sunday, an understanding glint in her eye. He doesn’t know what the fuck she’s assuming, but whatever it is, he knows she’s wrong.
“You go help your friend , then,” she says, placing an emphasis on the word ‘friend’ and earning herself a glare from her blushing son.
“Don’t fucking say it like that,” he grumbles, taking his plates to the sink.
“That is no excuse to use filthy language, you cheeky little shit,” his mother returns.
His father looks up from his newspaper briefly and sighs, shaking his head as he returns to the article he’s so engrossed in.
Katsuki swears parents are a different species. Eh, whatever . He’s got shit to do.
***
“Uhh, so I can either do it on the wars or on the civilian crisis,” Kirishima says, voice coming across crackly over the video call.
“Your connection is shit,” Katsuki complains, before adding: “I know fuck all about the civilian crisis, so I sure as fuck can’t help you with that.”
“The wars it is!” Kirishima returns cheerfully, flipping to the appropriate page in his textbook. Katsuki watches the redhead turns the pages, biting his lip in concentration. The image is somewhat appealing, and Katsuki can’t help staring.
Kirishima looks up, and their eyes meet for a second. Even though they’re barely in the same neighbourhood, let alone same room, it seems as if there’s no distance between them. Katsuki almost believes that he could reach a hand out and run it through those crimson locks…
“So, uh,” Kirishima starts, voice pulling Katsuki from his thoughts. “I gotta do an essay about the overview of it...and like, I know how to write it, I’m just not that great at researching it all...where should I start?”
“Airlifts, failed uprising, and the missile crisis,” Katsuki lists matter-of-factly, still not fully focusing on the task at hand over fixating on the image on his computer screen. He doesn’t see his friend like this often, hair still ruffled from sleep and tumbling down his shoulders rather than brushed and styled into spikes. Combined with the soft, hazy sunlight that highlights the golden flecks in the redhead’s eyes, and Katsuki can hardly force himself to look away.
This boy is going to be the death of him.
“Thanks, bro! You’re the best,” Kirishima says brightly, jotting the events down in a notebook, before tucking a loose strand of hair behind his ear and gazing off screen. “Hey, uh…”
The redhead trails off, biting his lip again in uncertainty.
“What is it?” Katsuki asks gruffly, curious to know what might have his bubbly friend looking so shy.
“Y-You’re free this week, right?” Kirishima confirms hesitantly, a light blush colouring his cheeks. It’s an alluring sight, and Katsuki seems to lose words himself.
“Free, yeah, I’m,” Katsuki stutters out, before facepalming and clearing his throat, trying to remain seeming cool even over Kirishima’s laughter. “Shut up, Shitty Hair, I’m fucking tired. But yeah, I’m not doing shit. Why?”
“Could we maybe hang out this week then?” Kirishima says eagerly, and Katsuki has to bite down a smile. However much he might feel the absence of his best friend when they can’t talk, Katsuki knows that Kirishima feels it too.
“No shit, you ain’t getting a break from me so easily,” Katsuki teases, and Kirishima grins, happy and irresistable. “But only if you finish this fucking work. Anyway, as I was saying…”
***
It ends up being a week well-spent, if Katsuki does say so himself.