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“Why are we doing this?”
Hizashi looked over at his husband from where he’s hanging garlands on their walls, “Because Nem and Ro are in America and Tensei is sick so why not it’s tradition.”
The blonde watches, fascinated, as Shouta’s entire body seems to inflate from where he’s laying face down on the couch, “But…” and then it deflated with a whiny “whyyyyy?”
And what can Hizashi do other than snicker at that? It’s always the same every year, but this time he’d watched the hope in Shou’s eyes grow as their friends all became busy and unavailable the closer to Christmas it got. Until Hizashi remembered something crucial to this particular Christmas.
They had new friends.
So, it’s with little pity that Hizashi hops off his step stool to see the results of his efforts, and chirps “Stop complaining, Shou.” To which his husband only groans in response. Snickering some more, Hizashi moves to the next section of the living room that needed last minute decoration. “At least I allowed you to choose your own this year.”
There’s a growl from the ravenette, and Hizashi can practically feel the glare sent his way, “If by ‘choose my own’ you mean you laid out a plethora in front of me and made me pick the least of a dozen evils, then yes, Zashi, thank you so much for your consideration.”
Hizashi turns then, a grin stretched across his face as he meets his husbands dark gaze. This is the most fun he’s had in years, and he wasn’t going to let a grumpy Shou mess it up. However, it only takes a few minutes of smug smirking and grumpy glowering for the caterpillar man to relent, sighing and heaving himself to a sitting position on the couch. The cats are currently locked up, to be let out after dinner so they don’t sneak scraps, but also meaning there was nothing there to sate Shouta’s anticipation for the night.
It’s still early in this whole relationship to the family, so tonight is as much of a coin toss as any other gathering they’ve done. And yet…
Hizashi looks like he hasn’t a care in the world.
Ah, the bliss of the ignorant and anxiety free.
Such a concept so foreign it may as well be nirvana.
The bell rings once, and Hizashi immediately perks up, quickly putting away the duster in his hand and skipped to the door. “That should be them!”
Shouta follows a few seconds after, and rounds the corner of the entry hall just in time for Hizashi to open the door to a mass of mismatched but familiar faces.
Midori Izuku smiles sugar plum sweet as he holds up a thermos with a cheery “Happy Holiday, Hizashi-san.”
Giggling a bit tiredly, Hizashi leaned through the door and tapped Izuku on the nose with a chirped “Honorifics Izuku~”
Shouta chuckles at Izuku’s cross-eyed surprise, and the rest of the Midori’s react the same way, even Shoto looking a bit more amused than usual.
Until Touya…
“Yeah, Izu,” the redhead leaned forward, breath ghosting over the cold flushed face of his partner, and purrs “Honorifics.”… before promptly licking the tip of the greenette’s nose.
The kids make a round of ‘eeeewwwww’s and shove their way into the apartment while Izuku stares wide eyed up at Touya, betrayal growing on his face along with a scarlet blush.
“Why.”
But Touya just chuckles, takes the thermos from Izuku’s lax grip, and shuffles into the apartment. Hizashi looks after him with wide eyes, before shrugging and follows with a skipped step. The greenette huffs, composing himself slightly before following, closing the door tightly behind him. Shouta comes up to lock it as the greenette removes his jacket and shoes, nodding a greeting.
“Hello, Izuku-kun.” Someone clears their throat, and Shouta looks up to meet the pointed look his husband is throwing him around the hallway corner. Thinking about it a moment, he looks down at Izuku, who’s watching the silent exchange with wide eyes, before asking, “You still callin’ me Shouta-san?”
At that, the greenette flushes a bit, biting his lip and humming as he levers himself to his feet. He doesn’t meet the raven’s look as he mutters a quick “Yes.” Before heading down the hallway.
Shouta sends a triumphant smirk to his husband, knowing the honorific thing still bugged him, and followed to find the family settling down on various furniture’s around the room. Katsuki, who’d been holding a pastry box when they all arrived, slunk out of the kitchen with a pout, Hizashi a step behind him with an amused tilt to his brow.
Sneaking a peek at the food, was he?
Wanting to fill the silence with something, Shouta clears his throat as he leans a hip on the back of the loveseat, tilting his head towards his husband as Izuku and Touya look up, “Hope you’re hungry, Zashi went overboard with the American foods.”
The blondes previous smug look drained away into a pout of his own as he whines, “I did not—”
“We have enough chili in the fridge to feed 80% of UA this year.” Shouta interrupted, crossing his arms as lifts a brow at his husband. There’s a chuckle from the others, and Hizashi rolls his eyes at the ‘cat got the canary’ look on his husbands face.
“It was a fun recipe.”
Shouta snorts at that, and Hizashi squawks, and the family chuckles, and it’s warm.
It’s so warm.
“That’s fine that’s fine,” Izuku smiles brightly at Hizashi as he waves a hand to where Katsuki and Shoto are sharing the couch, “Kacchan and Shochan went a bit overboard themselves with the dessert.”
“Fuck you, no I didn’t.” is Katsuki’s immediate response, fingers twitching to sign automatically with his words as he scowls at his brother, “It’s only expected to bring something when visiting, so I made sure to be prepared for all 5 of us.”
Touya snorts from where he’s sat on the couch arm, hands held up to the windows like they were the fireplace as he looks over his shoulder to the blonde. But before he can say anything, Shoto turns to look at Katsuki with his usual blank expression.
“Who was it who almost made me double the cider recipe because you didn’t think there was enough to, and I quote, ‘flood them with actual good cooking for once’?”
“FU—”
“Kacchan.” The blonde choked on his breath, red eyes narrowing in on Izuku as the man quirks a brow, “Holiday’s.”
Shouta, confused, watches as Katsuki huffs, crosses his arms, and sinks further into the couch in a pout. Shoto just glances away, but the hero can see the slightly victorious smile pulling at his lips. And he Definitely doesn’t miss the snicker from Hitoshi from where he sits on the loveseat below him.
There’s some more light conversation thrown around the room; comments of end of term exams, coworkers that threw away high paying shifts for holiday travel, the odd customer coming into the café to tell holiday stories and order the strangest foods that aren’t even on the menu.
Shouta is just updating Hitoshi on the new litter at the Hirune Neko Café when Hizashi sways out of the kitchen carrying a vat.
“Well, now that everyone’s settled, why don’t we have some dinner, catch up a bit more, then we can get on to the games!”
Izuku chirps excitedly, but it’s drowned out by the most deadened, monotone “Yay~” from the rest of the room that ever existed.
Before everyone dissolved into hysterics, that is.
~o~
“This is child abuse.”
Izuku sighed tiredly, “Oh don’t be so over dramatic, Shinchan. It’s just a sweater.”
The purplette uncurls from his spot on the couch just enough to glare at his brother, “That just makes it more child abuse.” Izuku sighs, and Hizashi pats him on the back sympathetically. Hitoshi, uncaring for his brothers plight, crosses his arms and sinks back into the couch corner, “Sweaters are supposed to be comfortable and safe and welcome on the body.” He waves a languid hand around the general room, “Not crimes against humanity.”
And, well… couldn’t argue with that.
Hitoshi was the only one wearing something somewhat normal, his dark grey cat hoodie was a bit baggy on him, and one of the little triangle ears on his hood was missing, and the knee length tail on the back of it looked like it was chewed on at some point, but… it wasn’t bad.
Though Katsuki’s choice of the red and green argyle sweater he’s currently pouting in is pretty normal if you shop around the holidays. No matter if the boy called argyle sweaters a crime against human decency.
As such, the blonde pointedly pouts at the purplette his fingers flexing where they sit on his biceps in frustration, “You’re just complaining because you couldn’t find a decent sweater at the thrift place we went to earlier this week.”
Hitoshi sits up at that, turning to fix the explosive blonde with a sardonic look that makes him bristle, “No, I’m not. You cannot get anything that garish on my person without a black eye. I’d say I’m surprised Aizawa-sensei’s wearing one, but then I remember who he’s married to.”
Touya coughs from where he’s sitting by the bathroom, his black and purple sweater blending with the shadows even as the woven in tinsel and glitter made him glint in the darkness. He, obviously, didn’t win the contest, and if anything won Aizawa’s envy as the ravenette sits there with a yellow based, purple and pink striped knit sweater almost perfectly fitted to his lean form. But all the man does is sigh, resigned, even as his husband squawks from his place beside Izuku.
The blonde is dressed in a blindingly white and yellow sweater that has battery operated lights sewn into the pattern, making him light up like a virtual sun. And though Izuku’s sweater is the more… traditional of the ugly sweater, Hizashi’s made it look downright normal; red and white striped snowflake pattern base, a sewn on reindeer patch, and some tinsel around the seams. But the man did one step better, and strung pin lights in his hair and had a headband with a gold star on the top, completing his transformation into a Christmas tree. Now the Yamazawa family understood why the children respected Izuku, but rarely took him seriously.
Taking a look at his husbands pouting face, though, Shouta realizes he has to make some effort in ther family pride, and turns to look at Hitoshi with a deadpanned gaze.
“I don’t know if that’s a compliment to Hizashi’s persuasion skill, or a criticism of my will to refuse.” Hizashi whines again from his seat, and that only warrants a Cheshire grin from Hitoshi. Seeing he wouldn’t be getting an answer any which way about it, he just ruffles the boys hair and smirks, “Brat.”
Touya clears his throat from the hallway, stepping closer to the living room with a sort of manic glee in his eye. He was enjoying the fuck out of this, and no one could ruin it for him.
“If you’re quite done,” he jerks a thumb to the closed bathroom door, “Shoto’s ready.”
“All right~” Hizashi perks up from his seat, hand raising along with his phone that’s been taking pictures of each sweater ‘for review’ later on with colleagues. Though honestly Shouta wouldn’t be surprised if he found photographic proof of this night later in their photo album of illogical acts. His husband takes up his radio voice and projects just enough to carry through the apartment as he begins, “Last up in the Annual Holiday Sweater Contest, and the judges are on the edges of their seats to see this new competitor! Critics claim this particular runner has never been known for his fashion sense, is partially color blind, and has a horrid taste in apparel, thus prompting close family relations to choose his clothing for him before he goes into public.” There’s a line of snickering from the kids, and Touya, though Izuku looks patiently pained as he watches Hizashi’s announcement. Hizashi pauses only briefly before clapping once, “Making him the most anticipated and most bet on competitor of the entire competition! Iiiiit’ssssssss Shoooootooooo!”
The bathroom door opens and…
wow
“Holy shit where the fuck did you find that.”
And Shouta couldn’t agree more with that statement.
The sweater is a bit loose fitting on the boy, but that’s not the problem.
The problem is it’s green, white, and red argyle mixed with snowflake paisley and pinstripes, it’s got strands of blinking holiday lights and twisting tinsel and to top it off, dancing snowmen in tophats and prancing reindeer sewn into the front.
Not to mention the kid’s dyed his hair into his usual red and green for the holidays.
It’s so painful to look at even Hizashi is stunned speechless.
Shoto doesn’t even step out of the bathroom as he looks directly at the blonde with a curious look in his eye, “Did I win?”
Izuku breathes out something that Shouta suspects is a laugh, but then the greenette stands beside the stunned Hizashi and nods, “Yes you won, dear, please go take that off.”
Without missing a beat, the boy bows with a dull “Thank you.” Before slamming the door behind him.
It’s quiet a beat, then…
“What the fuck is wrong with this family.”
And the whole apartment flooded with laughter.
~o~
It’s Eraser’s last patrol before Christmas, and he’s on his way to wish good luck to his vigilante duo. Jumps been more underground these days, less patrols, but Punch has become a near constant, meaning Eraser didn’t get too lonely while out and about in Hōsu.
He’s got a thermos of hot cider in his travel bag, and a tuperware of cinnabuns Hizashi had forced into his hands before he left. A little gift to them from him.
Eraser lights onto the edge of their meeting building, moving to the usual corner to start putting his things down when there’s a familiar greeting from behind him.
Calling his own greeting, the hero turns to the duo.
To freeze where he stands when he sees what they’re wearing.
And that night, the greater part of Musutafu wondered when they could hear from the rooftops, a shrill and hysteric scream echo across the city.
“What the fuck are those????”