Work Text:
Do you want to come over for dinner tonight?
Katsuki read the message on his phone, nodding with surprised approval before writing back:
So we’ve made it to this stage in the relationship eh?
He could hear the laugh in her voice when he read her next message:
It’s been like 4 months? I think you’ve earned the right to come over and meet the kids :)
Katsuki snorted―Ochako doted on her two cats enough that they may as well have been her actual children. They’d been dating for nearly four months, just as she’d said, though their relationship had been admittedly a bit distant. Not for lack of interest or attraction―no, they were definitely head over heels for each other, to the bemused approval of their old classmates―but there was always a shroud of uncertainty that came with the pro hero lifestyle. There was little in the world that made Katsuki feel more alive, but nobody would deny it was deadly work, no matter how good you were. Having a family, a significant other, there was a danger in it nobody wanted to think about but it was on his and Ochako’s minds all the same, not needing to be spoken.
So they enjoyed each other’s company carefully, hesitantly, meeting for coffee or dinner after shifts, walks around town on days off, kisses in empty alleys when nobody was around. Katsuki was surprised that she’d been the first one to ask, letting things get more personal by inviting him to her apartment, but actually - not really surprised. She was a lot bolder than she seemed.
6:30 ok?
It was almost 5, end of his shift. To get home, shower and dress wouldn’t take more than an hour, and it was a nice 20 minute walk from his apartment to hers in the warm June weather. A thumbs up from Ochako and Katsuki tossed his phone on his desk, changed back into his civvies and dashed downstairs to the agency lobby before anyone even had a chance to wish him good night.
.•° ✿ °•.
He'd been to her building before, waited near the front desk in the sleek lobby countless times for her, but this was the first time he'd actually seen the inside of the elevator. There was a weird satisfaction, knowing that he was in the same elevator that Ochako rode day in and day out, that he was experiencing a private little moment of her life and jeezus when did he become such a fucking sap?
Hands in his pockets, Katsuki glared up at the mirrored ceiling as the elevator climbed to the 8th floor. He took a right down a long carpeted hall before reaching number 816. The door was open a crack, and he could already smell something savory coming from inside. He wasn’t nervous, he told himself as his hand clutched the doorknob. Why would he be?
He let himself in.
Whatever Ochako was making filled the apartment from floor to ceiling, the air heavy and warm with seasonings and meat and boiling water. Katsuki took his shoes off at the door and ventured further inside. The apartment was cozy, the entryway opening up to the living room with a kitchen on the right and closed doors around a corner that he assumed were the bedroom and bath. The place was girly but not overly so, the furniture looking very...lived-in, for lack of a better term.
After 4 months of getting to know nearly everything about her, being in Ochako’s apartment was like discovering a completely new side to her. This was what she came home to after their dinners together, the TV she watched on her days off, the kind of silverware she liked.
Ochako herself was in the kitchen, standing at the stove in a t-shirt and shorts that had no right being as simultaneously plain yet sexy as he found them. She glanced over her shoulder, smiling in a way that looked somehow different from inside her apartment.
“Smells good,” Katsuki said and strode over to lean an elbow on her shoulder, pressing his cheek against his fist as he surveyed the range and countertop. Ochako was stirring a pot of what looked like thick broth, while in a smaller pot noodles rolled over and over in boiling water. There was something very intimate about watching Ochako cook, and he was a little dismayed that only now was he getting to see this side of her.
“Is ramen okay?” she asked, looking down as she began to thinly slice a green onion stalk.
Katsuki was about to respond when he saw two empty packets of instant ramen on the counter. Like, hundred-yen, crunchy block of instant ramen that he ate as a kid because he didn’t know any better. He snatched one of the packets and inspected it with a critical eye.
“Yeah, sure. Instant though? Didn’t realize I was such a cheap date,” he said with only a hint of bitterness.
“What? No! Of course not, Katsuki. I mean. Okay.” Ochako cut the heat on the range and put her knife down, turning to face him and looking slightly embarrassed. “I know what you’re thinking, but I promise you, this isn’t like any ramen you’ve ever had. Instant or otherwise.”
“That’s a bold statement.” Katsuki folded his arms, brows raised skeptically. He’d never actually eaten anything made by Ochako, and couldn’t decide whether her claim was encouraging or foreboding.
“Just trust me,” she said, wrapping her arms around his waist and looking up at him with those big brown eyes that had him trusting her whether he liked it or not. And of course he trusted her. With his life, even.
But still. Instant?
"Everything's ready. Go sit and I'll bring the food out."
Katsuki unfolded his arms and cheekily gave Ochako's butt a gentle slap before leaving the kitchen. "Trusting you," he warned her, settling down at the small dining room table. There was already a set of chopsticks on each placemat, along with a neat stack of wrinkled receipts and coupons at one end of the table.
To keep himself occupied Katsuki read off the top receipt―it was from today, some grocery store he'd never shopped at before. Instant ramen, some unnamed produce, and―600 yen for ground pork? Was it even possible to get that much meat for that cheap?
When Ochako came out of the kitchen, Katsuki was amazed to see her carrying what could not reasonably be called just ramen. Two bowls piled near precariously with meat and vegetables, with noodles somewhere underneath.
It looked impressive. It smelled amazing. Was this where a thousand yen's worth of groceries could take you?
Katsuki could feel Ochako's gaze on him as he took his first bite and -
"Oh shit."
Ochako's forehead wrinkled. "Do you like it?"
There was no way this was instant ramen and discount meat. His family had always shopped at the more upscale grocery stores. Katsuki's father was a decent cook, and still Katsuki had never eaten anything so good at home. He paid twice the price at restaurants for bowls of ramen half as flavorful. He imagined this was what people meant when they said that stupid thing about "made with love" or whatever the hell. It was not just noodles and meat and vegetables, it was an experience.
"It's really good," Katsuki said, and he meant it. "Like really good. How did you make this?"
Ochako grinned deviously and turned to her own bowl. "Secret recipe. Can't tell you," she said before taking a big bite. "But this was something my mom used to make when I was a kid." She reached for a glass of water. "I know instant ramen isn't very impressive, but sometimes we didn't have much else so she got creative." Ochako said it so simply, so matter-of-factly that Katsuki inwardly recoiled at how he'd reacted earlier.
He scowled down at his bowl. "Sorry," he muttered, taking a huge bite and talking around his food, "that was shitty of me. This is honestly one of the best things I've ever eaten. No joke."
Ochako smiled. "It was a natural reaction. I understand. It's okay." Her devious expression returned. "Plus I did make the amazing Ground Zero eat humble pie, huh?"
Katsuki swore and kicked Ochako's foot beneath the table with his own and she laughed up at the ceiling and Katsuki thought about how he would have been content to eat instant noodles for the rest of his life in a small, warm apartment with secondhand furniture on the 8th floor of a highrise, as long as it was with her.