Work Text:
December 1st starts with a bang, literally.
“Guys! Can I get a little help here–oh shit!”
Denki’s voice resonates too loudly in the small apartment, echoing off the walls that are still a little bit bare. There are curtains, yes, they put them up a couple of days ago after a healthy dose of grumbling and complaining, but boxes still pile up unopened in every corner.
It’s early, way too early to be up, and Katsuki is still trying to process the light streaming through the windows and the crashing noises that accompany it when Denki bursts into the room.
“Morning!”
Eijirou was definitely asleep two minutes ago, but his messy bedhair shoots up from his side and replies with a loud “good morning!” of his own.
Denki smiles beatifically, holding the lid of a pan in one hand and a rolling pin in the other. “Do we have any ladles?”
We. It’s getting easier and easier to hear the word and attach the correct meaning to it, to understand that they’re really all together for good, now. That they can be a we.
Katsuki tries to say something and it comes out as a grumble, but Eijirou is always ready to help. “Don’t you wanna come back to bed?” he asks. “It’s so early, man!”
Denki is already halfway out the door, the rustling noises resuming immediately. “It’s fine!” he yells. “I just need a ladle for the waffles and we’ll be fine!”
“Waffles?” Eijirou mumbles. His voice is still rough with sleep, and Katsuki is overcome with the sudden, unbearable need to kiss him.
Now that he focuses on it, he can actually distinguish the smell of vanilla coming from the kitchen. He regretfully feels his sleep escaping from his grasp. “Denki?”
“Yeah?” he replies, along with a ripping sound that’s definitely him opening another box.
Katsuki fishes for his glasses on the bedside table and puts them on. The bed is warm, made warmer by Eijirou’s presence curling up next to him, and even sitting up has him shivering slightly. “You can just use a big spoon instead, I guess.”
Denki takes a moment to pop up by the door again, but this time Katsuki can see him clearly. He’s wearing nothing but that big t-shirt he sleeps in and the fluffy socks, and the apartment might not be as cold as the snow that piles against the window but he’s definitely underdressed anyways.
“Denki, fucking hell, put some pants on if you’re gonna be out like that.”
He sticks his tongue out at him. “I thought you liked my legs, though?”
Katsuki is not awake enough for this. Next to him, Eijirou snorts. “I mean, he’s not wrong.”
“Fuck both of you, actually,” he grumbles. “And make me some coffee, if you’re already there.”
“Oh, that’s already prepared!” Denki beams. “I wanted to have everything nice and ready, you know?”
Eijirou sits up with a groan. “Wait, did we miss something?”
Katsuki freezes for a split second. Did he forget about an anniversary? Birthday? National holiday?
“It’s Christmas month!” Denki replies with a gasp. His hair has been fried by bleach enough times that it always sticks out in every direction like he’s been shocked, but the halo of strands seems to be especially wild this morning. “We gotta go shopping today, I wanted to get in the festive spirit by making waffles, come on!”
“You… found our waffle maker?”
“It was in the very bottom of that big white box, yeah! Oh, I found the socks you were missing too, I think.”
For the longest time, Katsuki took it upon himself to cook for himself and Eijirou–the guy would be able to survive on his own, yes, but Katsuki grumbled his way through many overly salted dishes and watery rice bowls until they both agreed to leave the culinary side of the relationship to him.
Denki had wanted to cook as well, during those first awkward dates that nobody dared to call dates out loud. He sucks at cooking, and he’d come to terms with it fairly well after the third or fourth burned dish, but sometimes he has… his moments.
“How does he even know what a ladle is?” huffs Katsuki, sticking a single foot from under the duvet and regretting it immediately.
Eijirou snickers. “Maybe he googled a recipe again, wouldn’t put it past him.”
They haven’t finished settling down in the little apartment yet, but there are already some small things that they’re getting to know about it. Katsuki knows that the kitchen is the warmest room in the morning, sunlight pouring through a strategically positioned window even in the depths of winter, and that soft glow combined with the smell of coffee that surrounds him as soon as he opens the door are almost enough to wake him up slightly.
Almost.
“They’re ready!” beams Denki. Fucking hell, how is he not freezing? The kid seems to always run at a higher temperature, his skin soft and warm everywhere Katsuki can reach, but what the fuck, it’s December.
Eijirou walks past him with a contented sigh, his already massive body wrapped in one of their blankets in a way that would make him look pretty ridiculous if it wasn’t so cute. He drapes himself over Denki’s shoulders, dropping kisses on the wild mess that is his hair, and he reaches a hand back to wordlessly bring Katsuki closer.
“You cooked for us?” he coos.
“Yeah, I did! I found Martha Stewart’s recipe on her site and everything, so it better be good.”
There’s some late night snow clinging to the windowsill, but the sun is shining on it persistently enough for it to glitter as it melts away. Katsuki manages to wrap his arms around the two of them and squeeze tightly just to hear Denki whine and Eijirou chuckle, before walking away toward the coffee machine like a weary sailor drawn inexorably by a mermaid’s song.
If Denki was jittery before, he’s straight up bouncing in his toes by the time they’re dribbling cheap maple syrup over the waffles.
“Maybe lay off the coffee for a while, hm?” Eijirou laughs.
Denki sticks a lazy middle finger at him. “I need my latte, thank you very much,” he huffs.
He always ends up pouting even if he knows that they’re messing with him, looking very much like a small animal in need of protection. Katsuki resists the sudden need to wipe a stray crumb from the corner of his mouth with his tongue or something equally as gross and he takes a big sip of his own mug instead.
“So,” he starts, bitterness clinging to the back of his throat. “Shopping?”
“Oh, shopping, yes!”
Denki whips out his phone and digs around until he finds a list saved in the notes app.
“Aww, so many emojis, how cute,” says Eijirou. The list spans several pages, as much as Katsuki can see from his angle.
“Do you want us to fucking camp at the store, sweetheart?”
Denki’s laugh clinks in the room like the spoon against the walls of his mug. He gets a big bite of waffle in his mouth and he barely swallows before he’s listing his plans. Apparently he has everything scheduled, and all Ei and him have to do is follow him around and pick their favorites, and–
“You really like this, don’t you?” Eijirou says softly.
“Too obvious?” Denki laughs.
Katsuki stands up with a groan and grabs his empty dishes on the way up. He drops a kiss on the top of Denki’s head on his way to the sink. “Just adorable, or some shit like that. Shut up. Get dressed.”
By the time they get back home after a full day of walking around, Katsuki is ready to remove his limbs and hang them above the heating like he’s been doing all day with his coat and the ever growing pile of cheerfully wrapped bags and boxes as they shuffled from store to store. He groans as soon as he gets inside, and the little group drop their purchases next to the door without needing to be told to.
As he shakes the cold from his bones and starts thinking about dinner, Katsuki finds himself pulled into a sudden kiss. Denki’s lips are freezing cold, and yet the sweetness peeks through, a popsicle of light that crackles and melts around him.
“Are we still doing this?” Eijirou chimes in. “Oooh, I want one too, give me a kiss too!”
The musty bundle of greenery that they taped to the wall a week ago is most definitely not mistletoe, but Denki has insisted on kissing them every time they walk under it regardless, and they’re not going to be the ones to complain about it. Ei joins the kiss with a giggle, spinning Denki around in his arms.
“Let’s get dinner done,” Katsuki sighs, stretching his arms around. He can still taste Denki in his tongue, so warm and so sweet.
“So, we’re taking him out of commission?” Eijirou asks as he walks past the fridge.
Him is the terrible doodle of a Christmas tree that holds on for dear life to the fridge’s door from a single pizza delivery magnet. The green mess that’s supposed to represent branches was Eijirou, Katsuki begrudgingly added some shitty sparkles and Denki was happy to drop enough glitter on top of it to have them finding the stuff everywhere for weeks.
They call it Shitty Tree, and it’s been up for two weeks, and Katsuki is beginning to find it hard to imagine the kitchen without it.
“Don’t you dare touch Shitty Tree,” he grumbles. “I’ll end you.”
They laugh openly at him at that. “Whatever you say, Mr. This is the dumbest idea you’ve ever had.”
Katsuki huffs, but in the end he can’t contain the laugh that crawls up his throat. “It was a stupid idea, and it better stay.”
The power of Denki’s and Eijirou’s smiles combined could probably power a small city or two. Katsuki shakes his head and lets them laugh at his expense, too lost in how warm the sound makes him feel to really care.
The box that contains their new tree–a real one, a worthy replacement for Shitty Tree–is placed carefully on the table.
“Shit, do we even know how to assemble a Christmas tree?”
“I mean, Ei, how hard can it be, right?”
“We should give it a try!”
Katsuki bristles at that. “It’s like, midnight.”
“Actually, it’s barely eleven,” snickers Eijirou, the traitorous bastard. “Denki, grab the box, we can try to do something before dinner!
To their credit, they do try. The rustling and banging sounds that reach Katsuki over the sizzling of the chicken in the pan tell him that they’re doing something, their voices betraying their excitement.
They appear at the kitchen door by the time the dishes are full and he turns the burners off, as if magically summoned by the smell alone. There’s bits of fake grass stuck to Denki’s hair, and Eijirou looks as out of breath as he does after an hour at the gym. They accept the food gratefully; it’s been a long day.
Eijirou is the first to break the silence. “Okay, that tree is a pain in the ass.”
“It’s like two feet tall?” says Katsuki in disbelief. “How is that little thing winning against two grown men?”
Denki swallows a mouthful of chicken too fast in his haste to defend himself. “First of all, it’s almost three feet. And I’d like to see you try!”
The little shit always knows exactly how to get to him. Katsuki points his spoon at him, the resolve already coalescing in him. “You’re on, baby.”
Denki grins, his tongue poking out between his teeth, and Eijirou pats Katsuki’s leg gently.
“Tomorrow, though,” he adds. “Y’all better get your asses in bed as well.”
Denki mutters something else about how cute it is that the baby needs his personal heaters to sleep, but by the time they’re clearing out the table he can’t disguise a yawn of his own.
“M’ tired,” he slurs, dropping his head on Katsuki’s shoulder.
“Of course you are, you woke up at fucking dawn today,” points out Eijirou.
“Mmmm.”
Katsuki lifts him up from the waist easily, dropping him over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes. He can feel how he shakes as he giggles, punching him on the back with almost no real strength.
“Sleep, now,” he commands, dropping him on the bed unceremoniously.
Denki only laughs more brightly and grins up at him. “Ei doesn’t want to sleep yet, though,” he drawls teasingly.
“Who said that? Make space for me, you big liar” retorts Eijirou.
The bed is barely big enough for the three of them, but it’s okay. When Katsuki snuggles closer to Denki’s back he can reach Eijirou and hold the two of them as close to him as he physically can, and they usually wake up tangled into a mess of limbs and aching backs, but it’s okay.
Katsuki barely has time to put his head on the pillow before he’s falling asleep, and he knows that they follow him closely enough.
The morning starts slowly, like the soft layer of snow that piles soundlessly outside. It’s always harder to get out of bed when the covers feel like the last bastion of warmth against a world that is too cold and too big, when you have enough body heat sticking to you to almost lull you back into sleep.
Katsuki plays with Denki’s hair absentmindedly. He refuses to look at the time; he’s sure that the moment will shatter if he moves any further. Eijirou cuddles closer and Katsuki can’t help the surge of protectiveness that overcomes him, the fierce need to keep their smiles safe.
Denki’s eyes peel open lazily and they glitter when he looks at him. “I hope you like Mariah Carey.”
“What the fuck.”
The moment doesn’t shatter, not in the way Katsuki feared. It’s as if the air shifts slightly, molding into something just as important even as it changes.
“We’re gonna put up the tree, what the fuck does Mariah Carey have to do with this?”
Denki shifts around, digging a bony elbow into his ribs. Eijirou stirs awake. “Mornin’”
“It’s important! We really can’t put up the tree without getting in the full spirit, right?”
Ei, to his credit, catches up quickly onto things even when half asleep. “You got a playlist, baby?”
Denki grins. “Oh, you bet I do.”
Years of retail service flash in front of Katsuki’s eyes, and his traitorous brain begins to play a terrible rendition of All I Want For Christmas Is You against his will.
It’s going to be a long fucking day.
Digging into the purchases from the day before has them wondering if they were possessed by some sort of feverish frenzy, as snakes of tinsel and boxes of baubles spill across the floor. Denki reaches for his bluetooth speaker and turns it on, launching immediately into his own rendition of Jingle Bell Rock.
Eijirou giggles and joins him immediately, and what their voices lack in harmony they make up for with volume, to Katsuki’s chagrin.
“So be good, for goodness–oh, shit!” gasps Denki as they struggle with the tree once again.
Katsuki is trying his best, turning the branches over and over and trying to fit the feet in the right positions, but the plastic strands tickle where he’s got half his body shoved into the thing and its center of gravity must be fucked because it simply won’t stand up straight.
“See?” giggles Eijirou, breathlessly. “This tree hates us, bro.”
The playlist moves on to It’s Beginning to Look a Lot Like Christmas, but Katsuki refuses to give up. It’s his honor on the line, damn it. “Pass me the instructions?” he begs.
Denki finishes his line before answering. “It was a clearance tree, do you really think it came with instructions?”
“Wouldn’t it be nice, an Ikea tree,” snickers Eijirou. Katsuki huffs.
The next time he looks up, Denki is carefully arranging enough tinsel on Eijirou’s head to fashion a crown out of it. It’s cute, seeing how absorbed in the task he is, his tongue peeking out slightly, but Katsuki can’t help feeling just a little bit left out–wanting to join in the fun but wondering if there was a reason why he was not invited in the first place at the same time.
Eijirou opens his eyes as if he had heard him speaking his thoughts out loud. “Don’t I look cool as fuck?” he grins, balancing the crown the best he can. “Oh, you should get one too!”
Katsuki sighs. The tree is lopsided at best, as there’s something that he’s definitely missing to keep it upright, but he’s been fighting the dumb thing for long enough now that he’s beginning to feel a prickle of real annoyance creeping up his spine.
“Fine,” he concedes. The two of them grin in anticipation.
A soft, jazzy rendition of I’ll be Home for Christmas frames Denki’s fingers as he fiddles with the remaining tinsel. It tickles where it brushes over Katsuki’s forehead, crinkling and fussing, and Denki is close enough for his breathy laugh to reach him with warmth as they try to make it work.
Eijirou hums along the melody softly, his eyes disappearing into crescent moons when Katsuki catches him staring. “You look regal, man,” he says.
“I know, right!” Denki sighs in awe. “My kings.”
Eijirou laughs again, and tinsel has never felt more golden. Katsuki finds himself caught in the whirl of a quiet moment, wondering if it’s one of those memories that will stick to him for years. The late morning light lazily spilling through the window, and the shiny, colorful mess that surrounds them as they sit on the floor, and something as simple as their morning plans crystallizing into more than the sum of its parts–he thinks he will remember it all.
“Gotta fix that damn tree,” he mutters, but Denki’s hand is still resting lightly on his arm and he probably wouldn’t be able to move if he tried.
Eijirou leans closer and plants a soundless kiss on his cheek. “Lemme see if I can help,” he says.
It turns out that two pairs of hands are no better than one if they have no clue what they’re doing, and it doesn’t take long for Katsuki to start muttering under his breath again.
“Fucking–shitty-ass tree, who thought this was a good idea?”
“I mean, we kinda all did,” Denki points out. He gruffs his voice down in an attempt to imitate Katsuki’s voice that comes out surprisingly accurate. “Holy shit, that one is really fucking cheap, grab it before it disappears in front of our eyes?”
“Shut it, princess.”
Denki gasps dramatically before flopping around on the floor. “Come on, I wanna put the baubles up,” he whines, elongating the n sound into a whine. “It’s been hours!”
A prick of irritation finds its way to Katsuki’s throat. He’s pretty sure that he’s setting the plastic support the right way, there’s only three of them and they should be attached to the trunk of the tree easily, but for some reason they refuse to stay in place. “I mean, you could always try to help, you know?”
“I’d rather kiss you,” shoots back Denki easily, but the quip doesn’t fall as gently as it usually does, not when paired with the annoyance brewing in Katsuki’s throat.
“It’s okay, you will do more later, I’m sure!” replies Eijirou instead. For some reason, that ease to side against him knits irritation into Katsuki’s brow. He pulls on the tree with more force than necessary, and he forces himself to push it into an upright position even if he knows that it will fall over regardless.
The tinsel crown found its way to the ground a long time ago, and the playlist of festive classics is circling over from the beginning, and the songs are even less soothing the second time around. Katsuki can already feel their worried eyes on him even if he’s keeping his own gaze safely nailed to the tree, to the cause of all his problems.
Because it is, everything would be simpler if the stupid tree worked as it should, but in the end it boils down to them making the wrong choices and being unable to fix them and–
“I can try to help,” says Denki timidly. His voice is usually confident, not exactly loud like Katsuki and Eijirou get when they’re excited but still unwavering, so the tenuous shade in his words make Katsuki’s chest thump with guilt.
“S’ fine,” he mutters. The tree hits the floor with a muted thud.
It is with a bitter sort of pride that Katsuki recognizes that not long ago he would’ve yelled and cursed his way through a situation like this one. Now, instead, the lit fuse fizzles out, even as the cheery music drills through his skull.
“I’ll be in the kitchen,” he mutters. He refrains from kicking a box last second, flexing his hands into fists instead. His thoughts are already running through the meal he’s going to prepare, shredding the garlic and chopping the vegetables and getting the rice cooker to work. It’s a dumb little strategy, but it soothes him pretty much instantly–food is something he can control and put his hands into to make it work, not like that fucking tree.
He used to find comfort in loneliness before he found them, and it still shocks him a bit to notice just how silent his own brain can feel when he’s on his own now. He chops the garlic with slightly too much force and he thinks about Christmas trees and a room that sometimes feels too small for everyone in it.
Eijirou is the first one to approach, to nobody’s surprise. He knocks on the doorframe, barely audible over the whirr of the kitchen hood and clearly still hesitant to come in, and he asks, “permission to come in?”
“It’s your fucking kitchen too,” Katsuki answers without looking. THe veggies are steaming nicely, and he wonders if he can convince them to set the table for him.
Eijirou’s presence is suddenly unavoidable, right to his side. “I fixed it, I think,” he says tentatively.
“Huh?”
“The tree! I’m gonna need you guys to help, but I think I found the problem.”
Katsuki puts the wooden spoon down and appraises the state of the pan. He shrugs. “Okay, hit me.”
Denki is not in sight when he walks back into the living room, and neither are half the garlands and fairy lights they bought. Katsuki never realizes just how loud they are together until one of them is not, somehow.
“Denki! Come help, you little shit.”
A halo of messy blond hair pokes through the bedroom door. “I’m almost done, though!”
“The hell are you doing?”
Denki looks at Katsuki, eyes big as plates. “Nothing!” he says with a nervous giggle. He’s definitely hiding something behind his back, and Katsuki definitely chooses to ignore it for now.
It turns out to be a matter of three idiots not knowing how to follow instructions, in the end. All they have to do is switch around the legs a bit, prodding them around until they’re attached to the correct pegs, and the tree stands proudly in front of them.
“It’s still crooked.”
“Shut up, Katsuki, it looks fine.”
“It’s fucking crooked!”
Denki practically jumps into his arms and silences him with a sudden kiss.
“Wouldn’t want a straight tree around this house, anyways,” Eijirou shrugs.
They both snort at the same time, taken completely by surprise.
“Ew, spit!” Denki gasps.
“Oh, please, like you don’t beg for it enough?”
Laughter is a contagious, loud thing. It blooms in Katsuki’s chest and spreads toward his limbs, taking every empty thought and anxious feeling and making them into something light and warm, if only for a second.
Eijirou joins them and does his best to lift both men in his arms in a crushing hug. “Denki, are you gonna give him the apology card now?”
Katsuki feels him tense in his arms. “The what?” he asks, amused.
“Ohhh, it’s nothing! Shut up.” Denki is blushing, all the way to his ears, and it’s so cute that Katsuki feels something in his chest squeeze. Eijirou must feel the same, because he runs a hand through his hair fondly.
“You wrote me a fucking–”
“Shut up! I thought you were mad at me!”
Katsuki lets him slip from his grasp and run to the bedroom, and he turns around to look at Eijirou for answers. “He really did?”
Eijirou shakes his head with a huff of laughter. “It’s a cute idea, you gotta admit.”
Words crowd in Katsuki’s throat.
“You fixed the tree,” he says instead.
“I tried! I saw how much it was affecting you, you know?”
Katsuki sighs. He shuffles closer and feels every muscle in his body relaxing and letting go when Eijirou embraces him in his arms, the grip always feeling so protective.
“We’ll be okay,” Ei whispers. “Everything’s going to be okay.”
Katsuki wishes that his thoughts weren’t such a convoluted tangle of emotions. Maybe if he could actually fucking speak sometimes–
He allows himself to rest his head in the crook of Eijirou’s neck, and he’s lucky enough to know that he understands.
“We’ll be okay.”
Denki’s apology letter turns out to be a splash of glitter strewn all over a piece of paper ripped from one of his old notebooks, a rainbow of color that doesn’t get any less bright no matter how much the different tones mix. He didn’t even have time to write anything, he whines, hiding shyly in Eijirou’s always welcoming arms, but the glitter gets all over Katsuki’s fingers and he can’t find it in himself to be mad about it.
“Gonna be looking like a rainbow puked on me for days, now,” he groans, and Denki giggles, and everything feels okay.
The food is cold by the time they finally sit down to eat, Katsuki recoiling at the mere suggestion of reheating it in the microwave.
“Our microwave isn’t even unpacked!”
“Oh, that reminds me, we should probably unpack it,” points Eijirou, mouth full. “I wanted to make myself a mug cake the other day and I was out of luck.”
“Ohhhhh, mug cakes!”
“I’ll bake you a full fucking cake,” frowns Katsuki. “What do you need a baby sized one anyways?”
Eijirou turns to look at him with stars in his eyes. “You would really bake for me? I love you.”
Katsuki snorts. “Love you too.”
“I’ll say ‘love you most’ if you make hot cocoa for us tonight,” Denki chimes in.
The glitter from the card clings stubbornly to Katsuki’s fingers no matter how hard he tries to clean it off. “I would tell you to do it yourself,” he replies, “except I don’t think I actually trust you with such a heavy task.”
“Wow, mean!”
It feels slightly shaky still, there’s no doubt about it. They’re interacting over the still tender actions from earlier, but it feels right, and it feels like they care, and it’s like a warm blanket placed tenderly over a tired soul. Katsuki clears his plate and starts thinking about the hot cocoa he’s going to make.
They don’t get much else done that afternoon, in the end. Turning a regular house into a festive one is more time and energy consuming than it might seem at first, and not even restarting Denki’s playlist and trying their best to sing along to every single song is enough for everything to get done; nevertheless, they try.
Nightfall comes early, at this time of the year, and they decide to turn on every string of fairy lights they now own to amuse themselves when the room gets too dark to work with. They have a long set wrapped around the tree, and they taped another one to the window cornice that now glitters in glorious full RGB, and–
“Guys, holy shit, this Santa ligths the fuck up!”
Eijirou’s shock draws everyone’s attention. The plastic Santa got chosen from a clearance bin exclusively for how delightfully creepy it looked, all molded plastic and misplaced paint, and discovering that its head actually hides a cheap bulb that makes him look like a possessed doll when turned on only adds to their enjoyment.
Denki reverently places Santa as a centerpiece on the table. “Perfect.”
The jazzy sax cover of I’ll Be Home for Christmas is back, playing almost in sync with the twinkle of the lights. In a happy coincidence all the lights they purchased have warm tones, and they make the room glow with beams of heat that spill out through the windows into the snow.
“Enough for today,” sighs Denki as he throws himself into the couch. Katsuki feels inclined to agree, ignoring how many empty packages he needs to kick to arrive at his side.
The little couch creaks and groans when Eijirou joins them. “Can we watch Love, Actually tonight?” he asks.
“Please, haven’t I suffered enough?” replies Katsuki, throwing an arm over his face.
Deni’s elbow gets him in the ribs. For how small the dumbass is, he’s bony enough for it to hurt. “Ow, what the fuck?”
“I love Love, Actually!” Denki replies. “That’s it, we're the majority, we’re watching it.”
“Didn’t we watch it last year?”
Eijirou’s smile is bright enough to blind. “Yeah! It’s, like, my Christmas tradition. We watched it at the old apartment, remember?”
Katsuki remembers, of course. He remembers the other apartment, and the tiny bed that became painfully not big enough once Denki started sleeping over, and the leaky sink, and the bedroom window that always got stuck when they tried to open it.
Denki laughs at something Eijirou said and Katsuki feels the laughter vibrating all the way to his bones. They’re so close, the three of them, crowded in a couch that came from some shady garage sale, sharing a space that feels just the right size for the three of them. The old apartment feels decades away.
“Get your cheesy-ass movie started,” he grumbles, standing up. He has some cocoa to make.
An important aspect of their household is that everyone living in it has their favorite mug. In the morning, when eyelids stick closed and the air feels like honey to walk through they don’t pay too much attention, but situations like this one where the hot drink is a vital part of the night definitely call for it. Katsuki drops a couple of marshmallows on each cup–Eijirou’s is a massive mug with a cheesy NO PAIN NO GAIN inscription on the side and Denki’s has a Pikachu pattern all over it–and manages to walk toward the living room without spilling a drop.
The only light falling on their faces comes from their laptop screen and the soft gleam of the fairy lights, but he can tell that they’re already engrossed by the plot.
“Make space,” he mutters, choosing to sit between them and ignoring their complaints. “Take your fucking hot choco, you babies.”
The drink balances on the thin line between hot enough to warm you to the core and lava and hellfire. Katsuki think’s it’s perfect, and he gets enough compliments about it that he finds himself genuinely satisfied, even if they’re joined by pained groans and hurriedly blowing on the cocoa to make it more drinkable.
“You even put the little marshmallows in!” Eijirou coos.
“‘Course I did, you like them. Shut up.”
They wrangle a blanket from under them and try their best to fit under it. It’s a mess of knees and goosebumps, that leaves them giggly and clinging to each other to share the space, and it’s perfect.
Sweetness slides down Katsuki’s throat, as warm as the soft lighting and the arms that wrap around him casually. He might’ve seen the movie before, but he can’t help getting drawn into the plot once again, losing himself in the process. He doesn’t register falling asleep.
“Oh, God, he really fell asleep?”
“Should we…” Eijirou’s voice sounds almost concerned. “Should we get him in bed? It’s been a long day, you know.”
Denki lets out a giggle. “He’ll be fine. Besides, he’s a really good human hot water bottle right now.”
Katsuki stirs. “Shut up.”
“Do you want us to turn it off? We can finish it another day,” coos Denki.
“No? I’m watching.”
Now they both laugh, sounding endeared. Katsuki tries his best to get them closer to him; the empty mugs were discarded long ago, but their warmth remains. Outside the snow has started falling again, gentle and silent where it piles on the windowsill, as if it was trying to protect what’s inside.
In the morning they might struggle with the remaining decoration items, and the food might burn; but, for now, they keep each other close and they rest.