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Katsuki clocks onto the unique undertow of inherent chaos surrounding his boyfriend pretty early on. Not just because he’s the smartest fucker in the room and perceptive as hell, but because Shouto is hardly as subtle as he thinks he is.
Not only half-hot and half-cold.
Half-smart, half-stupid.
From off-handed remarks at the worst of times, to small acts crafted to specifically annoy Katsuki, it’s damn obvious that behind the facade of stoicism lies an entity beyond human understanding.
Shouto, stoic. Yeah right. That presumed trait hadn’t even come from the beautiful bastard himself, it had been sculpted by big mouths with small minds.
Ice Prince with a thawing heart. Fiery Knight of repressed passion.
Fuck off.
That crap pisses Katsuki off to no end. Still does when he forgets why he should never check social media and falls into the fiery pit of twitter.
Not to be sappy or anything, but Shouto is more than just a handsome face to fawn over. He’s also nowhere near as cool - pun intended, duh - as the various rumours make out.
But overall, he has nuance. Not like a puzzle, because whilst Katsuki may be a damned fool in love he’s not a walking cliche spouting metaphors, thanks. Paradox is a better fit, or some cryptic bullshit like that.
Either way, much like Shouto when babbling, it makes no damn sense to Katsuki or anyone in the vicinity besides Deku.
Compels him though.
How those mismatched eyes can hold sharp intelligence revered on the battlefield, but behind closed doors belie it entirely. The way that pretty mouth can come up with insightful suggestions, yet somehow the same airhead who once asked Katsuki how to use the fucking hoover.
Heroic in public, horrifying in private.
Unfortunately, he’s also hilarious without even trying, the most underrated comedian of the century. The lines he comes up with are ridiculous, weird and a little terrifying.
Then there’s the fact he’s gorgeous, ethereal and enchanting all at once.
Basically, not that Katsuki will address this out loud, Shouto is the whole damn package.
To put it lightly - there’s never a dull moment with Todoroki Shouto around.
And sometimes, it’s almost as if the bastard knows that. Revels in the impact only he can have.
Like now.
The ghost of a smile haunts that pretty mouth, eyes crinkling in the corners. Unlike the extras, Katsuki knows the signs of anarchy. He’s carefully catalogued the stages since day fucking one of becoming friends with this moron, yet alone dating him.
“Oh, Katsuki.”
And there it is.
Bracing himself for whatever nonsense is on the way, Katsuki raises an eyebrow.
“I forgot to tell you...”
Shouto pauses on the steps to his apartment, probably for dramatic emphasis. Katsuki can’t stand the theatrics. He has no doubts Shouto didn’t forget a damn thing - he simply chose to wait for the opportune moment to play storytime like the goddamn menace he is.
“Yeah?” Katsuki prompts, striving to keep the heat out of his voice lest Shouto is spurred on by it.
Wouldn’t be the first time.
“My aircon is broken.”
Unbelievable. How he says that so casually - it’s kind of earth-shattering.
Glancing at the condensation on the windows, Katsuki squints.
Christ.
He can practically feel a whole goddamn microclimate radiating out from here. Arms folded, he voices his abject disgust. As he should. Both as a hero and partner to this foolish fool.
“It’s the middle of Summer.”
Shouto shrugs, fishing for his key with a small smile that Katsuki would very much like to wipe away with his own mouth. Later. The temptation is there. Even when his boyfriend is being an irresponsible shithead.
“Considering my quirk, that doesn’t really matter.”
Narrowing his eyes, Katsuki scoffs. The easy complacency that comes with such an efficient and powerful quirk is truly staggering. Katsuki would know, he's been through those motions before.
For Shouto, it may not be an issue. But one of them here has highly flammable sweat.
That lack of situational awareness outside of the battlefield continues to aggravate Katsuki. Given how much Shouto has honed in specifically on adapting to environments, understanding the strengths and weaknesses of his quirk in different locations, it’s amazing he fails to use that foresight in his everyday life.
Sometimes the bastard forgets he can still sunburn at the beach. Or that he can catch a chill parading around in shorts and a flimsy t-shirt in the cold despite not feeling it.
“Oi. Ain’t you forgetting something?”
Head titled, hair cascading over his forehead in that effortless way models spend hours styling, Shouto blinks.
“Like what?”
“You got a brain in there somewhere. Use it maybe.”
Lips pursed, Shouto’s eyes rake over Katsuki’s hands with far more reverence than necessary. This close, Katsuki sees the moment the proverbial lightbulb flicks on in Shouto’s head. He glows in the revelation.
Ridiculous.
“Oh.” Pause. “If you don’t think you can handle it, then you can just wait outside.”
Well. That’s a low blow and Shouto definitely goads on purpose. Mischief dances blatantly in those eyes. Katsuki struggles to suppress his knee-jerk need to be right at any given time, to prove this bastard wrong.
It's awful. Love is such a bastard, teaming up with chaos incarnate.
Waiting for Shouto outside is a dangerous game anyway. Even without this nonsense. Five minutes turns into twenty, simple tasks get glossed over. Without Katsuki keeping them on track, Shouto would be lost. It’s a miracle he gets anywhere relatively on time.
Relatively.
Not that they have anywhere to be right now. But Katsuki isn’t prepared to melt into a puddle of mush on the sidewalk in stubborn protest when he could be pressed against Shouto’s right side in private.
Chin jutting up, Katsuki clicks his tongue. He can handle it, he can handle anything.
“Tch. Just open the damn door already.”
Maybe it’s not bad-
Shouto opens the door. A rush of hot air barrels into them and nevermind. Katsuki takes it back. He won't give his boyfriend the benefit of the doubt ever again.
Wiping his clammy hands on his jeans frantically, Katsuki slams the door shut. Talk about a safety hazard.
“What the fucking fuck!”
“Katsuki,” Shouto sighs, as if for some reason he believes he has a point that Katsuki can’t disintegrate in seconds. "There's no need to be dramatic. It's broken before."
That is not the point. At all.
No way is Katsuki letting this shit slide. Mind reeling, heart racing, he finds himself overlooking the cheek of those words. Only because there's more important shit to focus on. This probably explains the dryness of Shouto’s face beneath his wandering fingers lately, the noticeable lapse of energy between patrols.
No amount of regulating an internal temperature is going to change basic chemistry.
And doing it constantly in a place that is supposed to be relaxing is absolutely ridiculous. Katsuki can hardly imagine the exertion of activating his own quirk for prolonged periods of time whilst doing other things.
Shouto has been running his engine non-stop without leaving time to refuel or properly rest.
God.
Pinching the bridge of his nose, Katsuki exhales pointedly. It’s going to be a long day and they’re barely through the morning. Damn it. The more he thinks about it - yeah. He’s pissed.
“Oi…” he starts, exasperation weighing his voice down enough to quell the fiery frustration. “How long has it been like this?”
Shouto purses his lips, as if deliberating whether it’s wise to provide this information. Like he knows he’s in big trouble.
Good. Because he is.
Eventually, the resolve crumbles.
“About a week.”
Katsuki balks at the admission. A whole myriad of things to be horrified about burns on his tongue. The number of risks to Shouto and his total disregard for it takes precedence in Katsuki’s mind. It builds in urgency, to the point it pulsates sharply between his eyes and threatens to splinter his composure.
He clenches a fist, hard. Averts his gaze.
Unfortunately, Shouto takes this as a cue to keep speaking. Trying for damage control.
“It’s not that bad, really. I have to focus more on keeping my temperature of course, but I haven’t passed out or anything.”
Wow.
Wow.
Since when was the bar for self-preservation so fucking low.
“You got ten minutes,” Katsuki manages through gritted teeth. “Grab essentials. Until this shit is fixed, you’re staying with me.”
Surprise flickers across that pretty face.
Granted, they should probably have talked about this shit before it was shoved on them. But Katsuki isn’t going to back down just because the situation is unplanned.
This is the last straw for observing the casual disinterest Shouto seems to have in his own wellbeing. More concerning, he doesn't even seem to realise it happens so much.
Katsuki cannot stand by any longer. He can’t solve this, but he can keep closer tabs on it.
Sensing the unease locking up Katsuki’s shoulders, Shouto presses a hand there and squeezes lightly.
Perceptive and patient all at once.
“Is that really necessary?” he asks, brow furrowed. “I...I don’t want to impose.”
Katsuki scoffs at the absurd notion of Shouto being unwelcome anywhere in his world. Like he hasn’t crawled his way into every crevice of Katsuki’s life already. With a grin, he meets those mismatched eyes.
“This what it takes for you to be polite, huh?”
Katsuki points towards the door, trying to ignore how his hands are trembling.
“Just cos you didn’t pass out doesn’t mean it’s safe. Bastard.”
Shouto’s eyes widen, confirming Katsuki’s worst suspicions. He didn’t even think once about the toll on himself. He simply adjusted to accommodate the issue at the expense of it all. Automatic.
That shit is not flying anymore.
It can’t. It just fucking can’t.
Because Shouto is strong and sincere and hell sometimes he’s even sensible so how is it that he can’t take care of himself beyond the bare minimum. It’s not right. It feels weird to think about.
Worse than weird.
Tension coils uncomfortably in the pit of Katsuki’s stomach, his body rigid and breath hitching.
Of course, Shouto is attuned to the rhythm of Katsuki by now. The response is instinctive. He inches closer, hands now rubbing soothingly along aching shoulders.
Oh.
Oh.
Fuck.
“Hey. I’m okay,” Shouto murmurs, repeating the motion down Katsuki’s biceps then stroking back up. “It’s okay.”
The low magnetic words and consistent touch creates a space so inviting to sink into. But Katsuki is trying to be the unshakeable pillar of reason here. For both of them.
Shouto presses a chaste yet firm kiss to Katsuki’s forehead, stepping back. The absence of his touch stings. More profound than it should be.
“I’ll get my stuff.”
Five minutes later, Shouto is back out the door with that tattered travel bag he still hasn’t replaced which lost its strap two years ago. Whatever. Katsuki will grill him for another time.
After all, Shouto made it out in record timing.
Somehow, he knows Katsuki needed that. His innate awareness of other people and their internal conflicts shines through in understated moments like this. His ability to reassure without being patronising.
Actions in place of words - because Katsuki responds best to those kinds of considerate gestures.
It’s a real fucking gift to have someone so equally perceptive by his side.
Their fingers brush as they walk down the steps. Katsuki can’t suppress the urge to keep their shoulders bumping.
“I’m looking forward to this,” Shouto says once the sharp silence thaws.
There’s a small smile dancing over his lips that can’t be trusted.
“I’ll get to eat your cooking every day...”
Elbowing Shouto in the ribs, Katsuki rolls his eyes.
“This ain’t a fucking hotel. You’re gonna pull your weight.”
“So you’re saying you want me to cook?” Shouto blinks and it’s stupid how that feels like punctuation. “You’d let me use your kitchen knives and rummage through your spice rack-”
“Hell no!” Katsuki snaps instinctively, mortified at the sheer thought.
Nobody touches his damn spice rack. Especially not someone as inept in the kitchen as Shouto.
At the fiery reaction, Shouto seems far too pleased with himself. Katsuki knows exactly where this is going and he’s not happy about it.
Or impressed.
Shouto is too powerful when he knows what he wants to achieve. Even in clownery.
“I suppose I'll leave that you...” Pause. “Along with the cleaning. I guess the laundry too - I don’t even know the password.”
Katsuki feels like he’s walking directly into the punchline of a silly joke. Or worse, a trap. Maybe both at once. If anyone is capable of shit like that, it’s Shouto. Still, he steels himself and asks.
This is so dangerous.
“Password?”
Shouto cocks his head to the side.
“For the washing machine.”
Katsuki doesn’t laugh. Because it’s not funny and the most exasperating part of this is that he truly has no idea whether Shouto is being serious or not.
One whole day without relentless torment would be nice.
“Shut-up!” Prodding Shouto in the ribs, Katsuki barks out his next request. “Switch sides.”
Eyelashes fluttering, Shouto doesn't move. A pillar of pettiness.
“Ask nicely and I’ll consider it.”
Okay. Katsuki can do that.
“Switch sides, asshole.”
“Hmm…" Shouto taps his chin. Then like some whimsical gameshow host, continues. “Are you sure that’s your final answer?”
“Cut the bullshit.”
With an amused huff, Shouto finally obliges.
By the time his right shoulder bumps into Katsuki’s, the frosty temperature ripples languidly outwards. Much better for a blistering day like this.
All the tension stewing within Katsuki ebbs away.
“Cute,” Shouto murmurs under his breath.
Fondly, of all fucking things. His eyes are trained ahead, face devoid of any clues he said a darn word at all.
Sometimes, Shouto is too good at this. Being a total shit.
“Watch it,” Katsuki hisses, affronted to find the tips of his ears burning. “After the aircon crap you just pulled, you’re on thin ice.”
Eyes wide, Shouto blinks slow.
They say cats blink slow to show affection. Well. Shouto does it to assert his chaos. On purpose. Probably out of misplaced affection too, but that is not the fucking point.
No.
This is practically morse code for I’m delighted to be here to annoy the hell out of you. Katsuki knows this because he’s become fluent in this secret language.
No more slow blinks mean a narrow escape from idiocy - for now.
Another set means I know you think I’m funny because you accidentally laughed that one time I told a weird joke nobody else caught so here we go again.
Seconds pass.
Shouto blinks again. Slowly.
Well, fuck.
“Am I?” he asks, like a menacing menace.
"Yeah," Katsuki snaps in hopes of shutting this down.
A smile blossoms over that beautiful face. Great. Shouto has reached that stage of contentment where he doesn’t even care if his terrible jokes are a secret or not.
There’s something so fucking ominous about the possibility of Shouto being goofy.
Silly - sure, fine. That’s been established since their first adult sleepover. But goofy is another thing entirely. To the outsider he’s supposed to be elegant, ethereal, enigmatic.
And yet.
And fucking yet.
“Strange,” Shouto muses, voice hushed and laced with amusement. “You said I was on thin ice.”
Katsuki musters his best glare.
“Don’t you dare.”
Shouto looks down, then. At his feet. He even stops to wiggle a foot around for a moment. As if inspecting it for something. Katsuki stares in abject horror. He can't send Shouto back to the raging inferno of his apartment, but he can't endure this for much longer.
“Remarkable.”
“Oi,” Katsuki manages weakly.
God. Stop this.
Glancing up to meet Katsuki’s eyes head-on, Shouto delivers the killer blow. Relentless as always in hitting the punchline, no matter how shit it is.
“I don’t see any ice.”
This sick motherfucker.
Just as Katsuki expected, Shouto settles into his apartment like he always belonged there. He’s practically part of the furniture, considering every chance the bastard gets he refuses to move an inch.
Not that Katsuki wants him to.
Shouto offered to help with the chores once, and the results from that were earth-shattering. So if he wants to sit and harp on from the couch about pointless garbage whilst Katsuki actually does something useful, then fine.
Katsuki is getting a shitload of free entertainment this way.
He’s also getting a closer look at the shit that bothers him.
Self-care isn’t some kind of competition. But maybe if it was, people would take it a little more seriously. The ridiculous thread that led them to share his apartment is glimpsed in all corners of their daily routine. Shouto keeps himself in good shape, sure.
He just doesn’t take it a step further.
"This looks interesting," Shouto says from the table.
Katsuki hums, attention elsewhere.
"Your food usually looks better than this, though. I think you're losing your touch..."
Wait - what.
Hold the damn phone.
And really, it’s a damn good thing Katsuki didn't go to take his shower there and then because Shouto is diving a spoon into the fucking bowl, bringing it to his mouth and holy shit-
“Oi! What the hell are you doing?”
Shouto glances over, precariously close to shovelling the mixture into his stupid mouth. Confusion ripples over his face, along with the pale wisps of sunlight through the curtains. He looks pretty and ridiculous all at once and it’s just too much to deal with at this hour.
“You said this was for me.”
“Yeah.” Katsuki points to his own face, slathered up in the very same mixture. “But not to eat, you idiot.”
Of all things, Shouto pouts. At least he finally puts the fucking spoon down.
Crisis averted.
“Oh,” he laments as the realisation hits. “It smells nice, though...”
Sighing, Katsuki drags a chair across the room and sits down opposite Shouto. God.
He’s really going to have to give this fool of his a hopeless 101 on basic self-care practice. Dipping his fingers into the bowl, Katsuki starts smoothing it over Shouto’s face. Gently, with feeling.
He curves around the cheekbones, dips down towards that sharp jawline-
Eyes narrowing sharply, Shouto meets his gaze.
“That’s rude, Katsuki.”
Grinning, Katsuki scrubs the messily drawn dick away with more of the mixture. It was worth a shot.
“Why do I need this?” Shouto finally asks when the bowl is empty and its contents are smothering his face. “You already think I’m pretty.”
Despite everything, Katsuki finds heat flooding into his face. All the way to the tips of his ears. He picks up the bowl to take it to the sink. Maybe he can wash away this stupid swell of affection whilst he’s at it.
“It ain’t about that. Why do you think I do it?”
Shouto doesn’t miss a beat.
“Well.” He gestures vaguely. “You clearly need to.”
Snapping his gaze towards the idiot behind him, Katsuki glares. Like the being of pure chaos he is, Shouto sits there tragically composed. Amusement gleams in his eyes, curling at the corner of his mouth. So he thinks this is funny and that he’s clever.
“Shut-up,” Katsuki manages but can feel the shaky grin holding the words together betraying him.
For god’s sake.
Reaching up, Shouto prods his own cheek. Resigned, Katsuki marches over and takes Shouto’s hands hostage. If this is the price to pay for making sure this idiot stays still then so be it. Those hands are damn wonderful. He’d hold them forever and a day more if he had the chance.
“Can you be patient for one fucking minute? Leave it alone.”
Fascinated, Shouto nods.
“But I feel tingling…”
Eyeing the scar carefully, Katsuki squeezes the hands. He had checked thoroughly before mixing the ingredients to make this mask, searching for anything that could cause irritation. But it’s best to be sure.
“In a good way?” he ventures.
“I think so.” Pause. Shouto closes his eyes. “Yes. It’s nice. Refreshing.”
For a moment, Katsuki watches a serene expression settle onto Shouto’s face. Life dwindles down to this and only this. No battles, no aftermath, no frantic pursuits and all the rest. Just them being here. Existing. Exhaling. Expanding into themselves.
“This is why I do it,” Katsuki murmurs.
Blinking an eye open, Shouto smiles. “So you can hold my hand?”
For that, he gets a light pinch to the wrist. God. He really is such a little shit when he wants to be. Katsuki rubs gentle circles back over the skin anyway.
Soothing in all the ways he wishes Shouto could be with himself too.
“Like you said, it feels nice. And that’s what we deserve.” With a shrug, Katsuki averts his gaze. “I find this shit pretty grounding sometimes. I guess.”
Shouto hums, fingers tracing their own patterns into Katsuki’s palms.
“I understand.”
Well. Here they are.
A simple facemask ritual has turned into one hell of a sentimental rollercoaster. Clearing his throat, Katsuki drags his eyes back to their favourite resting place. The endearing, ridiculous fool sat across the table.
It’s kind of ridiculous how Shouto pulls even this off. He could be in one of those pretentious adverts or something.
“Anyway. We can wash it off now.”
“Did you make this yourself?” Shouto asks, curiosity plaguing his voice.
For me, is what lingers forbidden between them. But for once in his life, Shouto seems to know when to keep a lid on things and let it go unspoken.
Turning from Shouto, Katsuki stands. Prickly embarrassment too close to shame is building beneath his bones and stirring them awake. He hates it, wants to purge it.
“Just figured you could try it. I had extra left, anyway. It would’ve just gone to waste.”
The evasion is so blatant it honestly sucks. Katsuki makes a hasty retreat. Or at least he tries to. Shouto tugs him back intently, eyes shimmering with gratitude and gladness and all sorts of sanctimonious stuff.
Of course, Shouto heard it all.
“Can we do this again tomorrow?” he asks.
Katsuki grins wildly at the unprompted suggestion. That’s real progress.
“Hell yeah we can.”
Alongside impromptu homemade facemasks, Katsuki ensures to deliver a whole lot more of that nurturing shit. Heaping it on wherever possible. Sometimes subtle, sometimes a little more daring.
If he shovels more greens into Shouto’s bento box nobody has to know. And if he decides to give tetchy cooking lessons during the preparations for dinner, well.
That’s only his business.
Shouto needs this shit. And Katsuki kind of does too.
Caring for someone this way is nice, settles the rattling beneath his bones that stirs in solitude.
“You could have just asked me to join you,” Shouto says playfully. “We are partners. I would’ve said yes, you know.”
Partners.
Well - that makes Katsuki’s heart hiccup all over the fucking place messily.
“Shut-up.” Pause. “Pay attention to what I’m doing.”
This isn’t a social event, it’s an academic one.
“I never really got to do much outside of training when I was young,” Shouto admits as he ties the apron up. “So this is good.”
You’re still young, dumbass.
Katsuki flinches. He knows it’s not his job to fix anything. Nothing is broken.
Shouto’s life is fragmented in places and complicated, but his eyes remain bright. He’s worked hard and this moment is a product of that inner peace. Katsuki can’t begrudge him.
Both of them experienced their own transformations. Where a person grows and outgrows some things.
“Tch. Don’t turn that shit into an excuse.” Katsuki scans the ingredients on the counter, eyes narrowing in suspicion. "Where the heck are the eggs?"
"I have no idea." Pause. "Though I have a feeling there was a terrible accident involving the floor, which had nothing to do with me."
Katsuki looks down. Regrets it immediately.
Living with Shouto is an endless cocktail of unnatural disasters.
Unnatural disasters aside, there is a tangible tandem between them. Just like on a mission and the moments they steal away from nosy fuckers. That stretches further and deep than Katsuki ever dared imagine, until he no longer is imagining - he’s living it.
A natural nourishing rhythm, one Katsuki finds sinks beneath skin and persuades his heart to dance this silly stupid thing they cultivate behind the same closed door. No longer the separation of your place or mine or bitching about well my place is closer or Shouto’s ridiculous please I must go home and feed the cat I don’t have but want one day so it’s important I get into the habit-
Now there’s a guest room slowly becoming emptier and emptier as Shouto piles his shit into Katsuki’s drawers. And Shouto sucking at the majority of chores, taking great pride in creating the cosiest blanket fort in history on the couch.
Loser.
A redeeming quality to Shouto is that he’s a fast learner. One of those irritating people who can master pretty much anything near instantaneously - with a few hilarious exceptions, of course.
Katsuki knows this well, has witnessed it first-hand several times. But like a damn fool, he isn’t remotely ready for the things this beautiful bastard throws his way. Sometimes, that’s part of the charm.
Shouto flops across Katsuki lazily, like some kind of oversized house cat. The unfurling affection does all sorts of funky fucking things to a fluttering heart. Pressed together chest to chest, legs tangled and all.
Real good shit.
Katsuki melts into the warmth, sinks further into the embrace. Sandwiched between the couch and Shouto is not a horrible place to be. Especially when there are no household appliances in need of rescuing or covert missions to pamper the shit out of Shouto that entail agonising antics.
The break from the carnage both beyond these walls and within them is welcomed. Nice.
“I thought you’d like this,” Shouto mumbles into Katsuki’s t-shirt, lips curling around a smile that is felt more than seen. “After all, it’s my turn.”
He sounds immensely pleased with himself, wriggling around to find the most comfortable position that brings them even closer. Now he’s practically a starfish belly-flopped on a beach, only the sand is Katsuki and the waves aren’t coming anytime soon to sweep this silly little star away.
Carding his fingers through Shouto’s tousled hair, Katsuki huffs at this ridiculous man. God.
“To do what?” he asks, a little breathless from being pinned and a lot in love with the way Shouto bumps his head so gently against the hand.
Fuck.
Unspoken devotion, unyielding tenderness. So much so that it bruises all the places his pulse combusts beneath his skin. Mismatched eyes blink up at him, glazed over with sleepiness.
“Take care of you.”
Something cold and sharp lurches in Katsuki’s chest at the unexpected words, hand freezing over the shape it absently makes across Shouto’s scalp. His insides kaleidoscope, jarring patterns rising up to the surface and holding him in a biting tension that stings.
Damn this.
Here he is, with the tables finally truly turned on him.
The firm yet fond directions he barks at the clown brigade when they’re cooking together, the way he’s persistent on checking Deku remembered to eat on a busy patrol, how half the reminders on his phone are for making sure someone else has their shit together - it’s bounced back in the form of this gorgeous bastard hovering high and holy above him.
“Don’t think I haven’t noticed,” Shouto murmurs, slow intent hands sliding up. “Lately, you’ve made a special effort to show me new things that feel good.”
Despite knowing exactly what this menace is on about, Katsuki feels his ears burn and heat flush up to bloom on his neck.
Shouto isn’t even nice enough to kiss it away or cover it when he definitely could. Instead, he leans back to get a better look.
Unacceptable.
Averting his gaze, Katsuki clicks his tongue.
“That’s obscene. Shaddup.”
This shit is embarrassing as hell and Shouto won’t even give him an out unless he blasts through the couch and subsequently ruins his fantastic furniture.
Screw this. Annoyances and the casual cleaving open of his chest is not worth a trip to Ikea. Katsuki is strong - he can do this.
But still, it’s simultaneously the best and worst thing he’s had to endure. Unfortunately, his heart settles on the former, which is a bold fucking move.
Bolder, Shouto does not shut up. That part is hardly a surprise. And bolder still - those sneaky hands have made their way all the way up to Katsuki’s face, cradling it so gently that it is truly staggering.
Terrifying and fucking terrific all at once.
What the hell.
Then Shouto takes it up a notch, because he doesn’t play fair. A thumb drags slowly yet insistent across skin and Katsuki has to grit his teeth to avoid doing something really fucking dumb like enjoy it.
“What I’m saying, is that you’ve taken time to help me understand how to look after myself.”
“Tch. You were lacking basic life skills,” Katsuki hisses around the lump in his throat and the prickling moisture in his eyes oh for fuck’s sake.
“Congratulations. Now you know how to cut chives and shit.”
Shouto’s eyes roam leisurely across his face, fingers tracing over the path. Whatever he finds has his lips twitching fondly.
“Katsuki.”
He snorts, a graceless and ugly sound for someone so fucking pretty, head knocking into Katsuki’s chest. Like some kind of weird headbutt that is absurdly gentle. And who knows why the fuck that is the final thing that tops it all off. But it is.
Shouto being sincere and silly, letting himself unravel at the seams and expose it all because he’s comfortable enough is everything. He's weird, wonderful. Totally unashamed in relaying adoration, content to peel back the layers. For Katsuki.
Christ.
He deserves to be okay, to be more than okay and believe it. How dare he do this.
Shouto’s head snaps up when the stupid tears that escape Katsuki’s traitorous eyes trickle down onto reverent fingers. Concern is etched into his expression, playfulness set aside for another time.
He sits up, straddling Katsuki’s lap and wiping at his cheeks. Instead of looking away, Katsuki holds his gaze steady. He’s not weak.
“I -” he spits bitterly because holy shit this is not how it’s supposed to go.
He’s fine. This is all overwhelmingly fine. No - it’s way better than fine and maybe that’s the damn problem. Part of him wants to yield.
“I can take care of myself.”
Reaching for one of Katsuki’s hands, Shouto presses a chaste kiss to the palm.
“I know you can,” he says, with unbridled devotion. “But I don’t think that’s what any of this is about…”
So now he finally gets it. Hitting the nail right on the damn head at the worst possible time. Lips graze over Katsuki’s pulse point and linger. Right there on his wrist. Just to listen, to feel. To cherish. Slow and sensual. Sacred.
Breath hitching, Katsuki stares up at the person adorning him with a ridiculous amount of attention. Shouto looks mesmeric, like he belongs there haloed by the orange sun.
Maybe he was born for this, had raw kindness woven into his soul that never truly succumbed to resentment or regret. And it’s fucking beautiful, has the swell of emotions irritating the corners of crimson eyes.
“Yeah, well. Anyway. I got this,” Katsuki spits whilst he still has the chance.
Self-reliance. Self-dependence. That’s always been fine. Good. No job is better than one he can do without an extra potentially fucking it up. No task is easier than one he can master himself.
Even in something like this. He doesn’t need these things, even if he kind of really likes them. Katsuki loves the shit out of Shouto - that should be enough. It ought to be. But sometimes, Shouto’s love is so selfless and unassuming and all-encompassing, he lets the reins slip all over again.
Sinks into it. Melts beneath it.
Lets himself fold.
“And I’ve got you too,” Shouto counters smoothly.
A wistful smile creeps across his face as he squeezes Katsuki’s hand tighter.
“I think it’s okay for someone else to take care of us. Like what you did for me this week, what you always do…”
Okay.
That’s quite enough of being perceived, thanks. Katsuki purses his lips tight and waits for whatever atrocious audacious thing this man is going to declare with such authority next.
“Beyond being a hero, it’s in your nature to look out for others.”
“Heh. You think you sound wise or something, spouting crap like that?” Katsuki scoffs but his voice cracks around the syllables messily.
That’s not the only thing that breaks - an untouchable and unreachable sun finally burns its last strained breath of the day, setting into a pink pillow on the horizon. With it goes the inhibitions clawing him back from falling deeper into this moment. The heat in his veins flares up, bleeds out through the grin settling on his face.
Slinging an arm around Shouto, he holds them in place. If they’re doing this, then they’re all in.
Determined and a little unhinged, Katsuki catches those twinkling mismatched eyes head-on. They’re in tandem this time, fighting for the same thing. But if Shouto thinks he’s won this, he better remember Katsuki won’t go down so easy. There’s just no way.
“Oi - don’t get ahead of yourself, bastard.”
Poking a finger into Shouto’s chest, his grin morphs into a pointed grimace. Something he hopes has bite so it leaves a mark, preferably forever because that’s how long this needs to last and even then it still wouldn’t be enough.
“I’m gonna love the shit out of you.”
Shouto presses a fervent kiss into the lines creasing Katsuki’s brow. Just one touch is enough to smooth it over entirely which is stupid but whatever.
“You already are,” he whispers, a secret and a promise tucked into the slither of space between their tethered hearts.
They spill into serene silence, then.
Shouto falls back down to cover Katsuki like an inconvenient blanket who moves around too much despite being warm, head nestled on his chest. Exhaustion comes knocking sooner than expected. But it’s permitted amongst the quiet solace they’ve built here.
Bones aching and heart a little sore, Katsuki heaves a shaky sigh out his lungs. It comes out a little desperate and relieved all at once. He can’t deny it feels fucking good to have this.
Not anymore.
Don’t leave you gorgeous bastard just stay-
Whilst Katsuki plans a myriad of ways to stall the whole ‘moving out’ thing - instead of, you know, uttering the most disgusting nauseating words in his life - Shouto takes the opportunity to gloat.
Of course. What else.
Some things never change.
“I was right.” Shouto glances up at Katsuki, mischief back in full swing. “You do like this.”
Shrugging as best he can, Katsuki hums.
“Eh - it’s alright.”
“Oh. I see.”
Pause.
Shouto shifts his position until the places they touch lessen, almost like he’s about to stand up or leave.
“Then you probably won’t mind too much if I-”
Katsuki yanks Shouto down, tightening his grip around the idiot’s shoulders so the only place he has to left to go is where he belongs. Here. Shouto laughs breathlessly at the wordless motion, eyes wide and full of mirth.
“-Move and I’ll blast you to hell.”
“Don’t worry." Lips grazing Katsuki's ear teasingly, Shouto speaks into skin. "Now I know you’re a cuddler, I’m not moving ever again.”
Katsuki swallows the fierce remark burning on his tongue, because he has better things to do right now. Better things such as seeing if there’s a way to rewrite the laws of the universe and somehow eradicate the tiny spaces left between them in this embrace. So they’re closer than close.
He’s not sure how, but he’ll damn well try. Together they’re kind of iconic, a powerful duo.
Fucking incredible.
“Really,” Shouto starts. “I mean it. I’m not moving.”
Scoffing, Katsuki pokes Shouto in the ribs, enough to make him wheeze gracelessly.
“Yeah, got that the first time.”
“No, Katsu. You don’t understand. I sold my apartment.”
Thanks for dropping that truth bomb out of fucking nowhere, Shouto. Real smooth. So full of finesse and tact. Talk about killing the damn mood.
“Wh- Oi?!" Katsuki exclaims, ignoring the pang in his chest at the thought of this whole living-together arrangement abruptly ending. "Where the hell are you going then?”
Shouto blinks slow, lips curved upwards in a way that can never be trusted and holy fucking shit. Katsuki sits up.
And that's it. The catalyst. The chaos.
Christ.
“Fuck - you’re supposed to ask!” Katsuki snorts, warped amusement running rampant across his face.
He shouldn’t be encouraging this kind of behaviour. Shouto will take the whole mile and then some.
“Hey. Ain’t we supposed to talk about this?”
Katsuki isn’t one to be stumped by spontaneity, but they should at least pretend to care about following the unspoken rules of most functioning relationships. Maybe they’re just fucking special, a cut above the rest of the extras.
“Is that a no?”
It should be.
“Nah."
“I’m glad,” Shouto replies soft and low. “Mainly because I hadn’t planned for any other outcome.”
Cackling, Katsuki throws his head back against the couch. It’s so outrageous and yet fucking perfect all at once. Shouto takes this chance to climb back into his lap. Their eyes meet. That’s all it takes. Katsuki trips over his next breath and tumbles into another bout of clumsy laughter. For god’s sake.
“You fucking weirdo!”
“You haven’t seemed to mind having me here.”
“No shit,” Katsuki grins, too swept into fierce affection to deny it. “Just don’t make a habit of pulling stuff like that out your ass.”
For a brief moment, Shouto clearly contemplates saying something that could shatter the entire earth. Eyes gleaming, he decides to let it go unspoken. Doesn’t matter, really. Katsuki hears the stupid quip and it isn’t funny. He won’t indulge Shouto, giving this man too much power is a heinous mistake.
“Quit messing around. I'm being serious.”
“Understood,” Shouto mumbles absently against Katsuki’s jawline. “I’ll ask you if you want to get married before I buy the rings.”
Holy shit.
Katsuki feels the prickly embarrassment making a fucking mess of him. Unfortunately, Shouto sees it too. He lifts his head, appraising his fine work.
“Do you need a timeout?”
Oh.
That fucker enjoys this far too much. Whatever happened to taking care of each other. This is outrageous.
“I’ll show you timeout, shithead!”
“Please do.”
The scowl collapses in the corners regardless of Katsuki's best efforts.
“I hate you.”
“No, you don’t.”
No, he doesn’t.
Katsuki never could commit to that with his whole heart when it sings so much for this menace.
“Oh, by the way. I forgot to tell you,” Shouto starts, the epitome of feigned innocence as he cocks his head to the side and flaunts his best angles. “The coupons you to told me to use last week expired yesterday.”
Apart from now.