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Katsuki had been vehemently against the idea from the very beginning. The absolute last thing he wanted was to have all three of his idiot, no-talent-ass partners in his pristine kitchen. The last time Izuku had touched the stove, the fire alarm had gone off. The stove hadn’t even been on and Katsuki took that as a loud and clear sign from the universe: no idiot partners in the kitchen ever. Easy. They all preferred it when he cooked anyways.
So making and decorating Christmas cookies was obviously a hard no.
Except a deadly rotation of puppy-eyes from Izuku and Eijiro followed by a carefully timed “it’s okay if you don’t think you can make gingerbread” from Shoto quickly reversed that decision. He knew he was being played but that didn’t make him any less helpless to react exactly how they wanted. It was fine, though. They would get their cookies, but he would get his revenge later. On each of them. Thoroughly.
That’s how he ends up here. They’re in the kitchen and he has carefully sat them all along the breakfast bar and warned them that one foot inside the kitchen itself will result in an explosion directly to the face. Eijiro has already broken this rule several times to steal snacks from the kitchen that Katsuki refuses to bring them– including kisses to Katsuki nose and cheeks. He’s taken several explosions to the face but that’s pretty much been a daily occurrence since he met Katsuki so he takes it in stride.
“Kacchan, please?” Izuku begs, fingers laced under his chin. “Pretty please?”
“Yeah, Kats,” Eijiro adds in, “pretty please? We’ve been really good!”
“Good?!” Katsuki scoffs, “how many times have you come into the kitchen, Shitty Hair?”
“Only like three!” Eijiro defends himself, “we were hungry!”
“What if we promise no more coming in the kitchen?” Izuku suggests.
Katsuki eyes him warily, suspicion in every atom of his body as he looks the green and red hero’s over. Shoto isn’t dedicated enough to either cause, so Katsuki isn’t worried about him but the other two are a different story entirely. He doesn’t trust them any further than he can throw them, which for Eijiro’s big ass isn’t very far.
“Fine,” he relents, “but the second any of you steps foot in this kitchen again I’ll throw all of these stupid ass cookies in the trash.”
“I mean…five second rule?” Eijiro comments to which Izuku shrugs and nods.
“No,” Shoto and Katsuki respond firmly in unison, before grimacing and rolling their eyes.
“No trash cookies, you little heathens,” Katsuki warns them, drawing a line over his throat in a very clear ‘I will kill you if you try it’ gesture. He then turns away to grab everyone’s alcohol preference of choice from the top of the fridge. “Only one,” he tells them as he sets about filling their mugs with milk, then a shot, then their toppings of choice.
Whipped cream, marshmallows, and chocolate syrup for Izuku.
Peppermint candy, marshmallow, and whipped cream for Eijiro.
Minty white chocolate chips and vanilla syrup for Shoto.
Whipped cream, caramel syrup, cinnamon and chili powder for himself.
“Now sit and fucking behave,” Katsuki orders them as he turns to the fridge to get the dough they made earlier out.
“Yes, Daddy,” Izuku replies cheekily and Eijiro nearly spits his cocoa out trying not to laugh.
“Maybe I should put you in the trash,” Katsuki wonders aloud as he sets the dough on the counter top and double checks he has everything they need to cut out whatever dumbass shapes his idiots want.
“Mean Kacchan,” Izuku pouts with a whipped cream mustache. Shoto gently takes him by the chin and kisses him before licking the erant whipped cream away. Eijiro is quick to shove his whipped cream against his mouth to give himself a mustache before pouting at Shoto as well. Shoto tries not to smile, fails, and gives the big red hero the same treatment.
“You idiots are literally the most shameless bastards in Japan,” Katsuki grouses, pretending he doesn’t also want to give himself a whipped cream mustache. Instead he focuses on rolling out the dough for their stupid cookies and making his partners pick which shapes they want.
“I want gingerbread men!” Eijiro tells him excitedly, leaning over the counter to snatch up the little person shaped cookie cutter.
“Kitty!” Izuku follows his example and grabs the cat and dog shapes. He also grabs the snowflake and hands it to Shoto who ruffles his green curls in thanks.
It’s far from a quiet affair but they slowly get the dough rolled out and shapes cut over the next forty minutes. Many pieces of dough end up on the floor or in mouths despite Katsuki’s vehement protests. Somehow flour has escaped the kitchen and found its way onto Izuku’s cheek, the breakfast bar, and their carpet. The cookies don’t take too long to bake so a few sets have already come out of the oven and are cooling on the stove.
Katsuki braces himself for the second worst part of this entire adventure: making the icing. “Any hands that reach towards this counter are getting blown off,” he warns them as he adds some cream of tartar to the egg whites in his mixer. Izuku had dared to comment once when they started about how they could just buy a kit and make a gingerbread house or something only to get a fifteen minute lecture from Katsuki about the subpar quality of anything that he didn’t make and how he wasn’t going to let any of that shit into his house.
They all knew it was really just because Katsuki wanted an excuse to use the fancy stand mixer they had gotten him for Christmas the year before but they also all knew better than to say that.
“What colors do you want?” Izuku asks Shoto, leaning his head on the other man’s shoulder as he works his way through his second cup of cocoa. This one only has half a shot in it because the little green hero is already cycling between blinking sleepily at them and laughing at nothing at all.
“White is fine,” Shoto answers as he takes a sip of his own drink. “I’m going to make snowflakes.”
“Booooooring,” Izuku shakes his head. “We need at least red, orange, green, and blue.”
“Demanding little shit, you want all that then you get off your lazy ass and come make it,” Katsuki complains.
“Okay,” Izuku sits up as if he’s about to hop off his bar stool to do just that but Katsuki is quick to glare at him.
“Shut up, nerd,” he says, reaching for the food coloring to pick out the colors Izuku asked for.
“Okay, Kacchan,” Izuku grins, laying his head back on Shoto’s shoulder. Cookies continue to bake as Katsuki carefully mixes icing and packages it into piping bags. He knows they’ll still somehow get it all over themselves and his kitchen but it hopefully helps at least a little. Izuku has moved squarely into giggle territory and is recounting embarrassing childhood Christmas stories with the occasional interjection from Eijiro. Both men were equally ridiculous as children as they are now and with each story they just make each other laugh harder and harder until they’re both scrambling to the bathroom because they’re afraid they’ll pee on themselves. It’s absurd and Katsuki can’t help but love them all the more for it.
“You’re quiet today,” Katsuki comments as he scrapes some blue icing into a bowl.
“I’m always quiet,” Shoto answers, propping his chin on his hand.
“Uh huh,” Katsuki gives him a knowing look before focusing on cracking new eggs into the bowl, careful to keep the yolks out. “What’s wrong?”
“Nothing,” Shoto replies immediately.
“You can either answer now when it’s just us or I’ll ask again in front of Dumb and Dumber,” Katsuki warns him. At the moment Izuku and Eijiro are too tipsy and having too much fun to really notice something is off but the second Katsuki brings it to their attention they won’t leave Shoto alone until he spills.
Shoto sighs and turns his gaze to the kitchen window. He’s quiet for a moment longer, watching snowflakes gently fall outside as he tries to figure out what he wants to say.
“I don’t have stories like theirs,” he settles on as an answer. “I have nothing to add.”
Katsuki sets down his food coloring and spatula, giving Shoto his full attention. “Their dumbass family stories are reminding you of your shitty dad,” he surmises.
“I guess,” Shoto sighs, shaking his head. “It doesn’t matter.”
“Sure doesn’t,” Katsuki agrees, turning back to the icing in front of him. “Fuck those shitty memories and fuck your piece of shit dad. We’re gonna make stupid fucking cookies that are so good your brain just dumps those memories and replaces them with better ones. Who cares about the past, you’re never gonna have another shitty Christmas again if I have anything to say about it.”
“Yeah!” Izuku cheers, falling over from his hiding place behind the living room corner wall. “We’ll make sure every Christmas is better than the last!” He adds, grinning as Eijiro bends down to pick him up and throw him over his shoulder. The sturdy hero carries his smallest lover back over to the breakfast bar and deposits him in his seat before pressing a kiss to Shoto’s temple and offering him a smile.
“Besides, you can always add whatever you want to, Sho,” he tells him earnestly, “not every memory we have is always going to be happy and that’s okay. You can share whatever you want with us, whenever you want, alright?”
Shoto smiles, leaning up to press a fond kiss to Ejiro’s lips. “Thank you, Eijiro.”
“Of course, baby,” Eijiro grins as he retakes his own seat, “but Kats is right, we’ll make sure every Christmas you have from now on is the best of the best, starting with the most awesome gingerbread cookies Japan has ever seen!”
“The world has ever seen!” Izuku corrects him, throwing his hands into the air and nearly falling out of his seat with the action but both Shoto and Eijiro are quick to catch him.
“If you don’t sober the fuck up I’m not letting you touch any of this icing,” Katsuki warns him as he replaces Izuku’s cold, spiked cocoa with a fresh cup sans alcohol.
“Kacchan,” Izuku whines, sticking his bottom lip out to pout obnoxiously. “Don’t be mean.”
“Izuku,” Katsuki mimics him in a horribly high-pitched approximation of Izuku’s voice, “don’t be annoying.”
“Rude!”
“Brat!”
“Jerk!”
“Lightweight!”
“Okaaaaaay,” Eijiro interrupts, placing a hand over Izuku’s mouth– not flinching when the little hero licks his palm. It’s Izuku’s go-to defense for this, they all expect it. “How’re the cookies coming along, Kats?”
“Fine,” Katsuki answers, dropping a tray full on the counter in front of them. It’s full of gingerbread person shapes, animals, snowflakes, and other random cookie cutter designs. He’s pretty sure he can turn some of the generic circles into grenades with the right piping tip.
He lays out several different colored piping bags in front of them, most of them variations of red, orange, green, blue, and white as requested. He also has bowls of icing with little spatulas and knives. He adds two bottles of variety sprinkles, three bags of candies, and edible spray glitter– because if they’re going to do this then they’re damn well going to do it right.
“If you get any of this on the floor, I’ll kill you.” He tells them, deadly serious.
“Mhm.”
“Sure thing, Kats!”
“Okay, Kacchan!”
They all agree despite knowing full well it’s already a lost cause. Izuku dives immediately for a cat cookie while grabbing a bag full of orange icing while Shoto takes a moment to select just the right snowflake. He also grabs white icing, a bottle of sprinkles, and some mini peppermint candies. Eijiro grabs four gingerbread men, half of the piping bags, and tells them ‘not to look’ as he sets up his space.
Katsuki rolls his eyes and gets to work frying up some gyoza because Izuku will inevitably decide he’s hungry as the alcohol works its way out of his system and he’ll beg for something cooked in grease.
As he’s turning the dumplings over to get a nice even texture he hears a snap, pop, and then plop noise followed by a quiet ‘oops’ and he doesn’t dare let himself turn around to see. Whatever it is, he’ll give the idiots some time to try and fix their own mistake before he’s forced to murder them with their own cookies.
“Kacchan,” Izuku calls out, voice sounding a little distracted– assumedly by whatever cookie he’s working on. “Can we have a snack, I’m kind of–”
He’s cut off as Katsuki drops a plate full of gyoza down on the counter in front of him, just narrowly missing what might be a cat cookie if said cookie had been decorated by Jackson Pollock and then gnawed on by a five-year old.
Izuku gasps and smiles so wide even Shoto gives him a bit of a side-eye. “Kacchan is amazing! Thank you!” He yells, volume control a little off at the moment. He drops his piping bag in favor of picking up a fresh dumpling. He mumbles ‘ow, ow, ow’ as it burns his fingers until Shoto plucks it from his hand. He sets it in his own palm and cools it with just a hint of ice before holding it up to Izuku’s mouth. Izuku takes it happily and gets right back to work on his next cookie, yet another cat.
“What a sap,” Katsuki smirks, “are you really making a Ground Zero cat cookie, nerd? You’re so obsessed.”
“Uh,” Izuku pauses, staring at his cookie with confusion. “No? How is it a Ground Zero cookie?”
“It’s wearing my uniform, obviously,” Katsuki scoffs, pointing to the little orange ‘x’.
“Um,” Izuku blushes and fidgets with the piping bag in his hand. “Kacchan…that’s his butt.”
Silence settles at the table for a few seconds before both Shoto and Eijiro burst into laughter.
“Deku, what the fuck!” Katsuki yells, outraged and a little embarrassed.
“What!” Izuku shouts back, affronted. “This cookie is shaped like a cat from the back!”
“It’s shaped like all of the other cat cookies you idiot!” Katsuki yells back at him, throwing one of said cookies at his face. Izuku dodges and the cookie cracks against the couch before falling to the floor.
“It’s an artistic interpretation!” Izuku defends.
“Yeah, like how you interpreted a cat butt for your hero uniform,” Eijiro snickers at Katsuki, wiping tears from his eyes.
“Go fuck yourself,” Katsuki snaps at him, “what the fuck are you even making, hah? What the hell is that supposed to be?”
“It’s you!” Eijiro tells him proudly, holding up the bright orange gingerbread man cookie. “See, we’ve got your abs,” Eijiro points to the little squares along the cookie’s body, “your spiky hair,” he points at the disastrous mess of icing all over its head, “your angry eyebrows,” honestly Katsuki can’t distinguish them from the ‘hair but okay, “and here we have your–”
“No fair!” Izuku yells, pointing an accusing finger at Eijiro. “Eiji can give his cookie a giant dick but I can’t give mine a butt!”
“Oh god,” Shoto groans, stomach already aching from having laughed so much. He really can’t take much more but damn if Izuku isn’t dead serious in his offense.
“How else would we know it’s him!” Eijiro argues, pointing at three other similarly decorated gingerbread men cookies.
Izuku puts his hands on his hips and looks at Eijiro in a way that is dangerously similar to how Katsuki does– his face implies that he’s seriously questioning Eijiro’s intelligence. “Oh I don’t know, maybe because it’s the only orange one?”
Eijiro glances at the cookie in his hand and then the other three. “Hm. Fair point.”
“Besides you have a big dick, too,” Izuku points out, looking at the red cookie. “Where’s that?”
Eijiro sighs, shoulders slumping. “It fell off.”
Once again Shoto bursts out laughing, forced to lay his forehead against the counter while he hugs his stomach.
“It’s not funny!” Eijiro whines.
“It’s a little funny,” Izuku argues, sheepishly trying to hide his own giggles. Even Katsuki is chuckling.
“You guys suck,” Eijiro pouts, stealing one of Shoto’s snowflake cookies and eating it.
“C’mon,” Izuku reaches out to pat his cheek, “it’s okay. We love them, don’t we?” He says to the others.
“Absolutely,” Shoto agrees, wiping tears from his eyes. “Besides, if anyone can laugh about dicks falling off it’s me,” he adds, still chuckling.
“Oh yeah,” Izuku snickers, remembering that one time Shoto’s strapon somehow fell out of the harness mid-scene. It hadn’t been too funny in the moment but they often laughed about it now.
“Ugh, fine,” Eijiro concedes, cracking a smile of his own. “Here,” he passes out each cookie to its respective inspiration. Shoto takes a bite of his, starting on the bright red side first. Katsuki stares down at his own judgmentally while Eijiro watches a devious little smile grow on Izuku’s lips.
“Hey Kacchan,” he calls out.
“Hah?” Katsuki glances up, eyeing the little green hero warily.
Izuku presses the little green cookie to Katsuki’s lips. “Wanna eat me?”
Katsuki’s eyes narrow, his smirk dangerous as he accepts a bite of the cookie. “Sure do. I’ll give you a ten second head start. One,” Izuku’s eyes widen, “two,” he scrambles out of his chair, “three,” green lightning flashes as Izuku takes off down the hall towards the bedroom, Katsuki hot on his heels.
Shoto and Eijiro watch them go before turning to each other. They both shrug, drop their cookies, and follow after.