Archive of Our Own

“You’ve got to be fucking kidding me.”

“Do I seem like the kind of person who makes jokes, Bakugou?” his teacher intoned expressionlessly, as he stuffed his hands into his pockets. 

Katsuki glared at the twinkling monstrosity in front of him. The monstrosity beamed back. 

“When I said I wanted that extra credit for my college reference,” Katsuki ground out from behind gritted teeth, “this wasn’t quite what I had in mind.” 

Aizawa, the thrice-damned bastard, had the audacity to shrug at him. Katsuki should have seen this coming. 

"Your grades are exemplary. In terms of extracurricular activities, your drumming teacher has told me he has nothing else to teach you. In fact, you could probably teach him at this point."

Katsuki couldn't help but bare his teeth in a prideful smirk at that. He was the best. He knew it; it didn't make hearing it any less enjoyable however. 

"Having said that," his teacher continued and Katsuki felt the grin leaking off his face, "your ability to work with and for other people is…"

Aizawa paused, as if choosing his next few words carefully. The wind whistled around them. 

"Lacking," he eventually settled on. 

Scoffing, Katsuki threw back his head - anything to get away from the nauseating sight in front of him. 

"I'm fucking delightful to work w-"

"And seeing as you point-blank refused to work with Midoriya on the school's charity event with Christmas For a Clause ," Aizawa interrupted, ignoring Katsuki's appalled 'tch' and eyeroll at the shitty nerd's family name, "I was left with little choice."

“Yeah but…” Katsuki gestured at the… thing in front of them, uncharacteristically at a loss for words. “Did it have to be this?” 

This happened to be a new store in the centre of Musutafu. The city had decided to trial ‘pop-up’ stores; shops that changed every so often with different small business owners selling their wares inside. That was all very well and good; Katsuki wasn’t inherently against a thriving economy… but he’d be pleased to allow the city to burn to the ground if it eliminated the existence of this particular store. 

‘Rebels without a Clause’ sparkled manically down at the pair, flashing candy-cane colours whilst a small machine taped to the upstairs window half-heartedly sputtered fake snow that drizzled dismally to the wet pavement below. The other windows had been attacked with at least fifty metres of tinsel and multi-coloured fairy lights and tinny Christmas music littered onto the street from a small speaker next to the pathetic snow machine. 

“Sir,” Katsuki began, pausing to take a deep, calming breath, just like their Health teacher had recommended if they ever began to feel overwhelmed or overcome by righteous hellfire fury. “ With the greatest respect… what the fuck?” 

This had to be some sort of joke. Or punishment. Was he being punished? Why was he being punished? 

As he continued to internally spiral, the door squeaked open and what could only be an employee of the godforsaken store trudged out dragging a trash bag like a corpse behind him. Under his delightful elf hat and painted pink cheeks, his expression looked as though his shift had aged him considerably. His entire countenance screamed of someone who wished he could jump into the dumpster alongside the trash that he had heaved in. 

“That one of the rebels ?” Katsuki asked Aizawa in a tone that wasn’t petulant at all, fuck you. 

Aizawa sighed. “Originally, the idea was for this to be a kind of ‘Santa’s Workshop.’” He couldn’t quite hide as his lips twisted in disgust. “However, they couldn’t afford to hire a Santa this year, so the owner changed the name and the employees just wear the costumes.” 

Bakugou blanched. 

“They wear… no,” he shook his head, eyes wide in horror. “No, I’ll just do the charity thing with shitty Deku, it’ll be fine! Let’s go and -” 

“Too late,” Aizawa drawled, ignoring Katsuki’s increasingly desperate tugs on his sleeve. “The owner’s a good friend of mine and the hiring window is over. This is the only way she’ll have enough employees to open up shop and the only way you’ll get your work experience.”

Katsuki let the sleeve drop from his limp fingers. 

This couldn’t be happening. 

His teacher turned to him, suddenly as stern as he had ever seen him. The air around him seemed to tremble and turn red and the black of his irises seemed to expand to cover the whites of his eyes. 

“You will make this a jolly holiday for every person who sets foot in that shop, Bakugou.” 

To make the image even more terrifying, he appeared to conjure an elf hat from out of nowhere. Katsuki did not want to think about where the fuck he had been hiding that. 

“Now put your hat on and smile.”

Katsuki paused and debated if he even valued his life that much. 

Surely death couldn’t be worse than this. 

Aizawa’s face impossibly darkened and Katsuki felt a little of his soul escape his body. 

“Fine.” 

He snatched the hat and shoved it on his head. He huffed a breath upwards as his blonde spikes were immediately pushed flat over his eyes and started to stalk towards the store. 

“Oh, and Bakugou,” Aizawa called, face and aura back to its usual slightly bored and completely exhausted shade of grey. He tossed him a plastic bag that Katsuki deftly caught with one hand and most certainly didn’t fumble. “Don’t forget the freckles.” 

And with that, the bastard practically dissolved into the evening gloom. 

Katsuki snarled and ripped the bag open.

Three pots of Snazaroo face-paint clacked together inside: red, gold and black. 

“Fucking hell.” 

---

Katsuki stood on the shop floor, his shoulders so tense that they practically covered his ears. 

The guy next to him (the one who had been dragging the trash out earlier) was frustratingly passive beneath his ridiculous hat, ridiculous makeup and ridiculous eyebags. 

They both stood stock still and silent. Just the way Katsuki liked it. 

Until the purple-haired bastard ruined it by opening his ridiculous mouth. 

"You should really put the hat on," he commented dryly, not even sparing the effort to look at Katsuki. "It's part of the uniform."

Katsuki was about to tell Eyebags exactly where he could shove that stupid fucking hat when Miruko, the manager with the wicked grin and hip-length white hair stepped onto the shop floor. 

"Ah! Fresh meat!" she declared, clasping Katsuki's unwilling hand in her large palm and shaking it vigorously. "Glad to see Aizawa can keep his end of an agreement. You've already met Shinsou?" 

Guess Eyebags had a name for him to immediately disregard and completely forget, good for him. 

"Sorta," Katsuki ground out, still finding it incredibly difficult to raise his gaze from where it was furiously fixated upon the floor. 

Miruko looked delighted. It was a slightly frightening expression on her harsh features. 

"Great stuff. Now that we've all made friends, make sure you get an early night tonight. I'll see you both bright and early!" 

Katsuki was almost halfway out the door before Miruko called out to him. 

"And Katsuki! Don't forget the hat is part of the uniform!"

On the first day of Christmas, Kirishima bought from me… a tacky pink Christmas tree.

This was hell. 

Katsuki’s soul had sadly departed this mortal coil and was trapped in hell.

Pink-Cheeks doubled over her knees, mittened fingers in a point whilst mirthful tears poured down her stupid round face wasn’t helping the situation. 

“Stop fucking laughing at me or I’ll call security.” 

Uraraka gasped for breath and fanned her reddening face. 

“I’m so-sorry, it’s just -” To her credit, she did try to hold back her laugh, her mouth warping into an impossible shape and her eyes bulging to a point where Katsuki was genuinely worried for her wellbeing before it burst out of her in a hysterical howl. “The freckles.”

“I look like your shitty boyfriend.” 

“Who?” Uraraka gasped out between tears. 

“Shitty Deku.” 

“Not my boyfriend!” 

“Yeah, I wouldn’t want to admit to it either.” 

Uraraka wiped her eyes and sighed. 

“At least he was smart enough to agree to do the charity event - you’re the idiot who has to walk around in… in-” she erupted into giggles again. “ Tights.” 

Katsuki grabbed a mop that had been propped up in the corner and brandished it at her. “Shoo. I’ll fucking call security. This is harassment - ” He was cut off by the bright flash of her cellphone. Katsuki saw red, threw his mop to the side with a loud clatter and launched himself at her. “Delete that right the fuck now you fucking b-”

‘Bakugou!” 

He stopped mid-grab, halted into place by the voice of his manager. 

Uraraka cackled and took another picture.

She’s not worth it. She’s not worth it. College, college, college, college…

“I need you to head back downstairs and put in disc two please; the music’s stopped.” 

Katsuki very masterfully kept the well-deserved retort about still using fucking CD players in this day and age suppressed. 

“And while you’re down there, kid, I need four more boxes of snowglobes.”

Heaving in a deep breath in an attempt to keep his sanity somewhat stitched together, Bakugou plastered something resembling a respectful smile on his face before turning back to face Miruko. 

“Sure thing.”

“Try to sound a little less sarcastic, kid, you’ll scare the children.”

Five minutes later found Katsuki grumbling in front of the CD player (seriously, a fucking CD player) and debating trying one more time to ‘accidentally’ snap the Now That’s What I Call Christmas! disc again, even though he had learned the hard way that he could probably launch the fucker at a train and the train would be derailed, whilst the CD remained unscathed. 

Like a zombie Nokia 365 (from approximately the same year this freaking CD player was made), the stupid thing just would not break. Any scratch that was ‘accidentally’ made on the shiny back seemed to make absolutely no difference to the music. 

If Katsuki heard one more rendition of ‘ All I Want For Christmas Is You’, he was going to have to kill someone. In the face. 

Merry fucking Christmas. 

As he trudged back upstairs to the beat of ‘ The Twelve Days of Christmas’ , Katsuki stopped on the last step, practically blinded by a head of bright red hair that had situated itself by the tills. 

The shop was quiet, aside from the cheerful monotony of soft Christmas music that played metallically over the speakers. Uraraka had run off then. His photos would be on social media already by now. His life was practically over. 

The floorboard squeaked as he stood onto the shop floor properly and the shock of red hair turned around to greet him.

Katsuki had to begrudgingly admit that the face that the hair belonged to wasn’t anywhere near as hideous as his hair colour. 

“Can I help you?” 

“Oi! Stick to the approved script!” Miruko shrieked at him as she appeared from nowhere, hidden behind a large tower of boxes that she balanced chaotically as she charged through the shop floor. “Did you get my snowglobes?”

Katsuki set them on a counter to the side, just loudly enough that she would hear them being placed down despite not being able to see anything past her tower of merchandise. 

“You’re the best!” she called, as she bustled past them into another section of the store like a whirlwind. 

The stranger smiled at him. His teeth were sharp and his eyes crinkled warmly in the corners as if he was genuinely pleased to see a scowling elf staring him out. 

“So, what’s the ‘approved’ script?” he questioned, grin growing on his face as he spoke.

Katsuki felt his cheeks flush. Partly with annoyance, partly with embarrassment and… partly with something else he couldn’t quite identify. 

“Don’t make me say it,” he growled, crossing his arms aggressively across his chest. 

“Aww, come on,” the stranger coaxed, looking thoroughly entertained, “I want the full Rebels Without a Clause experience.”

Katsuki looked up at him and deepened his glare. It was the kind of scowl he pulled that made Deku squeal, small children cry and his mother question her life decisions. The stranger simply… smiled back. 

What was with this guy? 

“Fine,” Katsuki finally relented, “but if I throw up on your shoes, that’s on you buddy.” 

The stranger laughed. “It can’t be that bad. Look, I’ll, uh… walk from over there and you can show me how it goes.” 

Spinning on his heel, the red-head practically skipped towards the front door, before turning back and walking in. 

“My!” he declared, in a crappy stage-voice, “What a wonderful store!” 

He held open his arms and smiled at Katsuki expectantly. 

Katsuki tried glaring at him.

It didn’t work. That smile didn’t budge. Katsuki sighed and dropped his folded arms.

“Welcome to Rebels Without a Clause,” he mumbled, scowling at the ground and blushing furiously. For the first time, he was actually grateful for the ridiculous red circles painted on his cheeks underneath the dotted freckles. “Can I help you find the perfect santa-mental gift in the Saint Nick of time?” 

He was met with silence. He imagined it was a stunned or disgusted one (who could blame the guy?) until he heard… sniffles?

Katsuki’s head whipped up.

The red-head’s eyes were welling up with tears. 

He immediately felt himself tense up defensively. His eyes widened involuntarily with alarm. Was he mocking him? Was he insane? Was this… was this feelings? What did people do when other people cried? 

Was he meant to pat him? 

The tiny Bakugou running his brain’s central nervous system threw himself on the ground in distress as, all around him, the brain started malfunctioning. 

Just before the red alert siren could sound, the stranger put him out of his misery and beamed once more through his tears. 

“I’m sorry, that’s just so… Christmassy,” he said with an obviously tight throat as he seemed to blink back more tears. Christ, was this loser related to Deku at all? “I just…” - sniiiiiif - “Really love Christmas!” 

Katsuki stared at him, completely at a loss. He looked to tiny Bakugou for advice. He also shrugged. 

“Uh…” 

“Just imagine,” the stranger continued, tears now starting to slide down his sharp cheekbones as his voice broke, “this tiny kid coming in with like… their sweet old grandma or something…”

Tears really started falling now. Katsuki uncomfortably eyed the mop he had threatened Uraraka with earlier. Would he already need it so soon?  

“And this cute as a button elf…”

Who the fuck was this loser calling ‘cute as a button’? 

“... comes out surrounded by all this Christmas stuff and says that?” He wiped his eyes. “You’re making dreams come true, bro. That’s so manly.”

Katsuki had never felt more uncomfortable in his life. He was so baffled by the whole exchange, he couldn’t even be angry about it. At least rage was familiar. Comforting. This was just pure confusion and, therefore, borderline terror. 

“Sorry dude, I didn’t mean to make you feel uncomfortable.”

Katsuki nearly jumped a foot out of his skin. This weirdo could read minds now!? 

“I can tell you don’t know what to say; it’s cool!” 

Oh, was this… that ‘emotional intelligence’ thing that Aizawa kept telling him to work on? 

Fascinating. 

It still didn’t tell Katsuki what he needed to say. Tiny Bakugou was busy trying to restart his brainstem, so he was of no use either. 

“So, was there anything you were looking for in particular?” he blurted out unthinkingly. 

Smooth. Though, given the bright smile that firmly planted itself back on the stranger’s tanned face, it clearly wasn’t the wrong thing to ask. 

How’s that for emotional intelligence Aizawa, you condescending asshole?

Human interaction? Nailing it. 

“Yeah, I was looking for your Christmas trees?” 

Christmas trees! Yes! He could handle that request. 

Until the stranger pulled the rug out from under his feet again. 

“Got any, uh, sparkly pink ones?”

“Uh…”

“Oooh, what about leopard print ones? Is that even possible?” 

On the second day of Christmas, Kirishima bought from me… two shitty snowglobes and a tacky pink Christmas tree.

Much to Katsuki’s surprise (and borderline disgust), they did, in fact, sell sparkly pink Christmas trees. Luckily, it seemed that Miruko had drawn the line at ‘leopard print ones’. Either way, Katsuki had made his very first customer very happy, and he tottered off with his massive Christmas tree, back off into the swirling fake snow. 

At least Miruko was pleased with him. 

“Good job, kid!” She had beamed at him, slapping a heavy hand on his shoulder a little too firmly. “For a second there, I really thought you were gonna fuck up that whole conversation, but you did alright in the end!” 

Katsuki glared at her and peeled her hand off of his arm. 

“There’s hope for your social skills after all!” 

Well. Fat lot of good those social skills would be now since he had confirmed that Uraraka, the fucking traitor had indeed posted his picture all over their socials. 

Even fucking Mineta, the three foot creep from his chemistry class, had had the audacity to laugh at him. 

What a fucking disgrace. 

In the grand scheme of things, Katsuki found himself kind of glad to be back for his second shift at Rebels Without a Clause. Suspiciously few people actually followed him into the store, choosing to mostly point and giggle through the window and, when that got too much, Miruko was very effective at threatening them with a fire extinguisher until they ran away. 

Cowards. 

At least for now, he was quite content in dusting down the many, many rows of hideous snowglobes precariously wedged onto the rickety shelves. It was honestly a mystery as to how some of them had even been conceptualised in the first place, let alone marketed to a group of investors who declared it a 'fantastic idea!’ and went about mass producing and foisting them upon the domestic market. 

Someone cleared their throat behind him. 

He sighed and tucked his dusting cloth into his nauseatingly delightful green apron with the candy cane trimming and began to climb down off the counter he was kneeling on.

“Welcome to Rebels Without a Clause,” he intoned through gritted teeth, “can I help you find the perfect-”

He paused as he turned around and realised who was standing waiting for him, with that expectant grin on his face and looking disgustingly festive in a god-awful santa hat and a jumper that declared the wearer was ‘ Fab-Yule-Ous ’. 

Katsuki narrowed his eyes at him again. Little Bakugou stood to attention, ready to yell ‘SHIELDS UP, RED ALERT’ should the conversation turn as distressing as it had the day before. 

“You’re not gonna cry again, are you?” he asked suspiciously.

The stranger laughed at him. A full-bellied, head-thrown-back, genuine kind of laugh. As if Katsuki had said something amusing. 

“No, I swear, man!” he insisted. “Sorry again for the tears yesterday - sharing your emotions is super manly but offloading without consent wasn’t very cool of me, especially when you’re working. That’s my bad.” 

Once again, Katsuki found himself a little lost for words. So he scowled at him some more. It didn’t bother the redhead one bit; he was distracted by the shelves behind Katsuki anyway. 

“Oh dude! Snowglobes!” 

He ran straight past Katsuki’s shoulder, eyes practically sparkling as he took in the horrendous display in front of him. 

“Haha! These are great! ” he declared. 

Katsuki squinted. Were they looking at the same thing? 

The stranger picked up two, one nestled carefully in each of his large hands as if he was handling something precious. 

Katsuki swallowed and tried not to stare at them. 

Tiny Bakugou swallowed and blatantly stared at them. 

“ ‘I heart Musutafu’,” he read from one of them, completely unaware of Katsuki’s second emotional spiral in as many days, “I do love Musutafu! That’s true!” He laughed delightedly and peered at the other one. “ ‘Sleigh it ain’t snow’ - and it’s snowing!” 

He seemed genuinely thrilled with the trashy things. Katsuki was growing a little concerned for him. Should he… call someone? 

Meanwhile, the stranger carefully placed them back and grabbed two more. One proudly stated: ‘ Sleigh, Queen!’ with a haphazardly painted ornament of a crowned woman sitting in a sleigh with sunglasses and a half drunk glass of prosecco raised in the air. 

The stranger clearly liked that one and placed it in his basket. 

“Mina would love this,” he stated sagely to Katsuki, as if Katsuki had any fucking clue who Mina was. 

The second one that made the cut and was placed gently into the basket like a newborn baby was a particularly monstrous one with a weirdly-buff shirtless santa stood in front of an igloo (which featured a rather frightened-looking penguin sticking his head out of a window - frankly, Katsuki could relate) striking a strongman pose. The slightly-peeling vinyl stuck directly onto the class stated that this particular Santa thought he was ‘ Sexy and I snow it’.

“Self-confidence is manly, bro,” was all the stranger had to say by way of explanation at Katsuki’s questioning look. 

Katsuki really couldn’t argue with that, he supposed. 

On the third day of Christmas, Kirishima bought from me… three packs of tinsel, two shitty snowglobes and a tacky pink Christmas tree.

“So what’s your name, anyway?” 

Katsuki paused in wrapping a reel of tinsel that the stranger had chosen from the wall and looked at him for a second, considering his next move. 

“Why?” was what fell out of his mouth. 

Smooth. 

“Well, this is the third time I’ve spoken to you. It’d be cool to know what you call you. Y’know… if you’re comfortable with that and all.”

Tiny Bakugou paused at this as well, and screwed his face up with thought. Was there a catch here? Either way, the guy had already seen him in the most humiliating low point in his life, so how much lower could he sink at this point if he was to look him up online or something? It could only go up from here. 

“Bakugou.” 

The stranger smiled. He did that a lot. 

Katsuki felt compelled to continue, if it got him a wider smile. 

“Bakugou Katsuki.” 

“Bakugou Katsuki,” the stranger repeated, as if he was tasting the words on his tongue. Katsuki decided he rather liked how it sounded on the stranger’s rough voice. 

“What about you?” he asked, continuing in his wrapping process. 

“Kirishima Eijirou,” the stranger… Kirishima… replied, holding a hand out, “it’s nice to properly meet you.” 

The name suited him - his family name was as sharp as his spikes and his forename was classical… old-fashioned even.

Katsuki allowed him a brief half-smile as he took the proffered hand with his free one. 

The grin on Kirishima’s face threatened to split his face in half.

---

Katsuki stretched satisfyingly and turned the last shop light off. 

He nearly died of shock when he turned back to the front door to only be immediately met by a pair of tired eyes, glowing an eerie mauve in the darkness. 

"The fuck?" 

"On first name basis with customers are you now?" 

"The fuck? Are you watching me, you psycho?" 

"I could practically hear you batting your lashes from downstairs," Eyebags monotoned. "I almost vomited onto the CD player and Christmas would have been ruined." 

Katsuki immediately felt anger surge like a fucking ocean of cranberry sauce and holiday spirit. 

"Shut the fuck up before I start batting you instead."

Shinsou smirked at him. Possibly. It was hard to tell; he hardly moved his face. It was unnerving at the best of times, let alone in the dark. 

"Don't worry," he said before slurping on the straw in his coffee cup like a fucking toddler, "I'm on stock first thing tomorrow - I'll make sure he wants to come back in. Toodles."

And with that, he sauntered out the door and into the evening rain. 

Katsuki was enraged and… confused. Was he being mocked? Supported? Was that… friendly? 

He ripped the stupid hat off his head and shoved it in his back pocket, before slamming the front door much harder than necessary and locking it up for the night. 

 On the fourth day of Christmas, Kirishima bought from me… four fucking dolphins?, three packs of tinsel, two shitty snowglobes and a tacky pink Christmas tree.

“Fancy seeing you here.” 

The familiar voice made Katsuki jump and wobble on the tall ladder he was precariously balanced on. 

“Fucking hell, don’t do that.” 

He felt strong hands grab the ladder and steady it for him. 

“Sorry!” Kirishima called up to him. “You good, man?” 

Katsuki gripped the sides of the ladder with whitened knuckles and lowered his head to try and slow his suddenly heightened breathing, feeling his heart rushing a mile a minute. 

He couldn’t die here. He refused . 

“Jesus Christ, Kirishima,” he croaked weakly, adrenaline making his throat dry. 

He could practically feel the idiot wince beneath him. 

“I’m really sorry!” 

He could just imagine the kicked-puppy face the shitty-haired loser would be wearing right now and he almost couldn’t bring himself to climb back down to face it. Nevertheless, he had a job to do. And even if it was the most God-awful, soul-destroying, undignified work he could think of, by God, Bakugou Katsuki would not be beaten, especially not by the minimum wage grind. He would be the best goddamn elf Musutafu had ever seen, even if it killed them both. 

He regretted his decision the minute his feet hit solid ground and his horrified eyes registered what was in Kirishima’s basket today. 

Four, sparkling Christmas tree ornaments were lined neatly amongst a chaotic tangle of more multi-coloured tinsel and canisters of fake snow. Katsuki narrowed his eyes at them… were they even from this shop? If they were, Katsuki had somehow missed them being brought up from the stock room because there was no way he wouldn’t have burned them on sight. 

They were, frankly, an abomination. 

Only someone who truly hated the society in which they lived would have allowed the general public to be exposed to them by putting them out on the shop floor. 

…

Shinsou, that bastard.

 This was absolutely his doing because he knew Katsuki was on shift today and would have to sell this bullshit and pretend to be happy about it. 

Perched on a pink surfboard were four glittery dolphins donning bright pink sunglasses and red santa hats. Clasped in the end of their absurdly muscular fins was a Christmas pudding. 

Katsuki had seen some tacky shit make its way through the shop floor during his sentence time working at Rebels Without a Clause but this was almost impressively bad. 

One of the dolphins' smiles was painted on wonkily. Like it was mocking him. 

It pissed Katsuki off even more. 

"What the hell are those." 

He couldn't even phrase it as a question. 

He finally looked up at Kirishima, noticing for the first time that he was wearing a bright green jumper that clashed horrendously with his firetruck-red hair. It was emblazoned with a Christmas tree adorned with little stitched string lights and claimed that ' Christmas is lit, bro!'.

"And what the hell is that." 

Kirishima's head darted to and fro, as if he couldn't work out which sin to focus on first. 

He eventually grabbed one of the dolphins fondly and held it up. Katsuki resisted the urge to stumble away from it, hissing like a demon being spritzed with holy water. 

"These were just super manly," he explained… as if it explained anything . "They'll look lit on the Christmas tree I bought the other day!" 

Katsuki's eye twitched. 

"And speaking of 'lit'," Kirishima continued, either ignoring or completely oblivious to Katsuki's utter revulsion, "look how cool this Christmas sweater is!"

He dropped his decoration back into the basket and fumbled with the hem of his Christmas tree jumper, squeezing a hidden button. 

The lights had tiny bulbs sewn into them and twinkled merrily as a tinkling rendition of 'Rocking Around The Christmas Tree' sounded from somewhere under the knitted gifts. 

He stood there for a moment, showing off his clearly prized possession. 

As much as Katsuki wanted to make his natural displeasure known by keeping his face as sharp as possible, he couldn't help his lips softening into something resembling a smile at the golden purity of Kirishima's happiness. 

Eventually, the lights and song timed out. 

"Cool right?”

“Something like that,” Katsuki grumbled, still unable to quite pull his face into the frown that he wanted. 

The lack of animosity Katsuki felt towards Kirishima left him wracked with confusion; he was exactly the kind of nerd that he would usually take great pleasure in completely ruining Christmas for. But somewhere along the line, tiny Bakugou inside his brain had become bewildered and flustered at the clear, strong muscles rippling under those ridiculous Christmas jumpers, and at the juxtaposition between his sharp exterior and complete sunshine personality. 

Somewhere along the line, tiny Bakugou had become discombobulated enough to find all of these qualities attractive. 

Fucking hell. What a goddamn walking cliché he was. 

This wasn’t some cheesy, holiday oneshot. This was a job that he simply had to survive until December 25th so he could get his freaking college reference and then immediately dip and bleach any memory of this place from his memory. 

Kirishima and his fab-yule-ous sweaters and all. 

On the fifth day of Christmas, Kirishima bought from me… five hundred chopsticks, four fucking dolphins?, three packs of tinsel, two shitty snowglobes and a tacky pink Christmas tree.

“Are you shitting me right now?”

Kirishima’s crimson eyes were wide and pleading. He was kneeling on the floor surrounded by boxes of chopsticks. 

“Just one more box, dude, please!”

“This obsession of yours? Seek help. Please.” 

Kirishima groaned and pulled on one of his ridiculous spikes. “It’s not an obsession!” he insisted a little too strongly. “There are only 467 pairs and I need at least 500!” 

Katsuki pulled a face. “And what in the ever loving fuck do you need 500 chopsticks for?”

Kirishima opened his mouth to reply but Katsuki cut him off. 

“You know what, I don’t think I wanna know. Wait there.”

Grumbling to himself all the way, Katsuki stomped down the flight of stairs to the stockroom that was looking far less cluttered since Kirishima had come in (wearing a maroon Christmas jumper with a reindeer holding a long candy cane and the slogan: pole dancer! ), become ridiculously enamoured with the chopsticks with various christmassy ends (such as penguins, Santas and trees) and demanded at least 500 pairs of them. 

Each box contained between 50 to 100 substantial wooden chopsticks in individual cardboard gift boxes. Hence, they were fucking heavy when they needed to be lugged up a steep flight of stairs to the shop floor. Especially when this needed to be repeated five fucking times.

He took the opportunity whilst he was down there to change the CD before Miruko could bitch at him about it, but not before quickly seeing if he could set the shitty thing on fire with the lighter he had tucked in his back pocket. No luck, once again. Not even a scorch mark. Further proof that the CD, the shop and, indeed, his life, was cursed. 

Shinsou walked in on him as the flame was valiantly licking at the rounded edge of the soundtrack to Katsuki’s desolation and simply raised an eyebrow at him and carried on walking past him to the other end of the stock room.  

“Don’t you think I’ve already tried that?” 

Katsuki flipped the bird at the back of his head. 

It made him feel a little bit better until Shinsou carried on speaking, not even bothering to look at him.

“Stop flipping me off and get back to your boyfriend.” 

“Oi!” Katsuki immediately shouted. “He’s not my boyfriend! Fuck you!”

Shinsou muttered something into the box he had his head stuck into that sounded suspiciously like “ the lady doth protest too much” and Katsuki resisted the urge to spread a little festive colour in the stock room by painting the floor with Shinsou’s blood. 

He sighed loudly and, jostling the box to make as much petty noise as possible, stomped back up the stairs. His biceps strained a little as he hefted it onto the counter. Kirishima was watching him a little too closely. 

“What?” he demanded. 

Kirishima looked like he’d been caught with his hand in the cookie jar.

“Nothing!” he said quickly. 

What a weirdo. 

Katsuki cleared his throat to waft away the momentary awkward silence. 

“That should be 500 chopsticks, you freak,” he declared. “Need anything else while I’m feeling generous?” 

Kirishima took a moment to think, drawing his lower lip to nibble at it pensively with his sharp incisor. 

“I’m not sure I can carry any more than this,” he eventually said. “I might need to bring my car round to take it all with me.”

Katsuki groaned, “No, don’t do that. You can’t park out there, you’ll get a ticket.” 

The clock ticked. Kirishima looked like steam would start pouring out of his ears if he were to continue attempting to problem solve. Katsuki sighed. 

“Grab half, I’ll get the rest and take it round for you.”

Kirishima perked up. “Really? You don’t have to do that!” 

“It’s fine,” Katsuki ground out, wondering where the fuck this charitable spirit had come from. “Lemme just tell Dick Face where I’m going.”

“Who-?”

“Oi! Eyebags!” Katsuki hollered down the stairs. “Taking some shit out to a customer’s car!” 

He ignored the horrified look some grandma with a small child gave him as she covered some brat’s ears with her gloved hands. 

“Watch the store while I’m gone!”

“ What?” Eyebag’s muffled voice only just carried up the stairs. 

“What do you mean ‘what’?” 

“ I can’t hear you!” 

Katsuki breathed deep, preparing his diaphragm. 

“Just get up here and watch the shitty store!” he screamed. The grandma from earlier looked absolutely affronted, snatching her grandbrat’s hand and dragging them out of the shop. 

Kirishima looked amused. 

Katsuki grabbed a couple of boxes, heaving himself upright under their combined weight. 

“The fuck are we going with these then?”

Kirishima scrambled to pick up his own boxes. 

---

It turned out that Kirishima had only parked a few blocks away but by the time they reached his tin can of a vehicle (that probably wasn’t entirely roadworthy), Katsuki’s arms were ready to drop off. 

As soon as the boot was opened, he dropped the boxes with a force that probably blew the car even further off its axis. He dusted his hands off on his stupid candy cane apron and stood back to allow Kirishima to do the same. 

“You sure that piece of crap can handle that extra weight?” he questioned as Kirishima pulled the boot shut with a loud thud. 

Kirishima’s jaw dropped as if he had finally been offended by a comment that Katsuki had made. He hadn’t even cursed. How disappointing.

“You leave Riot alone.”

Katsuki pulled a face at him, scrunching up his nose and scowling ferociously. 

“ Riot? ”

“Yep. Crimson Riot. A manly name for a manly car,” he smiled soppily, patting the wing mirror fondly. 

“You’re ridiculous. It’s not even completely red.”

Kirishima moved to caressing the hideous, yellow bonnet as if one would stroke a lover’s cheek. 

“They were out of red when it needed replacing! Weren’t they, Riot?” Kirishima cooed, speaking less to Katsuki and more to his piece-of-shit car. 

“Jesus Christ. I’m leaving.”

“Hey!”

Just as Katsuki moved to walk away and back to his shift, he felt his wrist grabbed by a large, strong hand. 

He stopped, looking back at Kirishima who was suddenly very close. 

He looked down at the hand. 

He looked back at Kirishima. 

Tiny brain Bakugou breathed rapidly into a brown paper bag. 

“Er,” Kirishima seemed to come back to himself and dropped his wrist. The cold air wrapped around where the warmth had just been and made Katsuki shiver. “Sorry.” Kirishima stepped back. “I… just wanted to say thanks for the help!”

Katsuki snapped his jaw shut as soon as he realised it was hanging open. 

“It’s whatever I guess,” he mumbled, staring at the pavement. 

Kirishima had pulled his car keys out and was nervously jingling them in his hand. 

“I’ll see you around,” Katsuki said, and started to walk off again before he was stopped once more by a gasp. 

“Hey, I forgot to pay you!” Kirishima fretted, pulling out his wallet. “Oh man, I’ve only got card. Let me just-”

Tiny Bakugou saw an opportunity and barged sane Katsuki out of the way. 

“It’s fine,” Katsuki heard himself say. 

“What?” Kirishima asked, looking dumbfounded. 

“What?” Sane Katsuki shrieked.

Tiny Bakugou cackled hysterically. 

“I mean er - come back tomorrow and just settle it then.”

“What!?” Sane Katsuki demanded. 

Tiny Bakugou squealed in delight at the guarantee of seeing Kirishima again tomorrow and danced in a few circles before collapsing on the floor, drunk on power and excitement. 

“If… I mean, if that’s okay with you! I am running late for my shift.”

“No, it’s not okay with me!” Sane Katsuki hollered desperately, “Miruko is gonna murder me. That’s over 80,000 yen’s worth of stuff, what the fuck!?”

“Sure thing, just come by whenever and do it then,” was what Katsuki actually said, scuffing his shoe on the pavement, not daring to look up. 

“Thanks man,” Kirishima sounded grateful and relieved. Katsuki’s heart sped up. “I owe you!”

He trudged back to the shop once Kirishima had driven off. 

Shinsou was waiting for him, slurping on his straw as always. 

“Miruko’s gonna kill you.”

Katsuki grabbed a handful of fake snow for the machine and shoved it down the back of his shirt. 

On the sixth day of Christmas, Kirishima bought from me… six singing penguins, five hundred chopsticks, four fucking dolphins?, three packs of tinsel, two shitty snowglobes and a tacky pink Christmas tree.

One formal disciplinary and three lectures later (from Miruko, Aizawa and his parents ) found Katsuki stuck on stock duty, therefore rendering his reckless behaviour completely pointless as he couldn't come up to take the card payment from Kirishima anyway. 

He swore to himself as he unboxed yet another collection of electronic penguins that danced and sang when you pushed a button on its wing. 

He had accidentally set off the fuckers off at least fifteen times in the last hour and was ready to rip his own ears off. 

Or set one of the penguins on fire. 

Or blow up the CD player, just because fuck that CD player. 

He found himself actually wondering what kind of Christmas jumper Kirishima was wearing today. 

It pissed him off that he was pissed off at not being able to see it. 

He was just all round pissed off, OK, fuck off and let him unbox these endless rows of singing and dancing penguins would you? 

Shinsou trudged downstairs, looking smug. 

"How the turn tables." 

"I'll shove all these packing peanuts down your throat if you don't shut the hell up right now." 

Shinsou slurped his ever-present coffee cup straw obnoxiously. 

Katsuki chucked a penguin at him. 

It immediately burst into a wriggling rendition of 'Christmas in the Trenches ' because clearly, nothing said Christmas like a penguin shaking its tail feathers to a song about the bloody horrors of ancient warfare. 

"Katsuki!" Miruko's grating voice demanded his attention. "Swap with Shinsou, I need you up here!" 

Even Shinsou's cold, dead eyes couldn't hide the crestfallen expression on his face. 

It was Katsuki's turn to look smug now. 

"Enjoy." 

He set off three penguins consecutively as he left - just because he was an awesome colleague - before leaving Shinsou to it and doing as he was told. 

Miruko was waiting at the top of the stairs for him. She was trying (and miserably failing) to maintain the firm expression that she had used when tearing him a new one earlier that day but a smirk was bursting through. 

"... What?" Katsuki asked warily. 

There was a thrilled flash of teeth. "You've been requested, " she whispered, "by name. " 

Katsuki scowled. It had better not be Uraraka or one of the other chuckle fucks in his class come to laugh and point at him again. 

"He's cute," Miruko added with a wink that looked, frankly, ridiculous and a touch frightening on her face. "Just try not to give away half my store this time please?"

Katsuki froze for a second. 

Then stomped out onto the shop floor. 

Miruko scurried over somewhere to the random freezer section that she seemed to have stuck in the far corner of the shop floor as an afterthought. 

And there was Kirishima Eijirou in all his red-headed, spiky glory wearing a violently bright multicoloured sweater decorated with a chimney and Santa's legs sticking out of the top. ' Soots you!' was emblazoned across his chest. 

His face was absolutely frantic . 

"Bakugou!" 

He was practically in tears. 

Tiny Bakugou was ready to sound the 'OH FUCK FEELINGS' alert and shut down every part of his consciousness. 

His hand hovered over the big, red button as he observed the situation closely. 

"I'm so sorry, man," he blurted out, "I should've known not to be so selfish but I was running late and we're so short-staffed but we can't not open and I panicked …" 

"Kirishima-" 

"And then you got in trouble because of me and that's just not cool, man…"

"Kirish-" 

"You went out of you way to help me and I really appreciate it and I don't want to take advantage and your manager is so scary, bro, and I-" 

"Oh my God, KIRISHIMA."

Kirishima gulped, his eyes wide. 

"It's fine," Katsuki growled. "You've spent such an embarrassing amount of money in here that she let it slide. Got a slap on the wrist and a day on stock duty. You're good." 

Kirishima still looked absolutely hysterical.  

"You're not just saying that to make me feel better?" 

Katsuki, frankly, was offended at the very suggestion that he would become a liar for something as trivial as someone's feelings. 

"Fuck no. I'm not a liar." 

"Are you sure it's okay, cos I can leave and never- ooooff! "

He was cut off from his rambling as something soft was launched into his face. 

"What the f- stop fucking watching me, you freak!" 

Shinsou slunk back into the stock room staircase like the little stock gremlin he was. 

"Christ, sorry about him, just-" 

" Bakugou! " 

Kirishima's eyes were dangerously wet again. 

Tiny Brain Bakugou stood up to attention with his hand hovering over the emergency shut down button once more…

Until he became cognizant of a horrifically familiar tune and whirring of wriggling machinery. 

"No." 

Kirishima gasped. "He's so cute !" 

" No. " 

"I need one!" Kirishima declared, holding it up like it was the new Crown Prince of Christmas Kingdom. 

"You absolutely don't need one." 

"You're right." 

Katsuki blinked. That was easy. 

Kirishima's eyes took on a wild glint. 

"I need six!" 

And just like that, Kirishima forgot his hysteria, Miruko forgot she was pissed, Shinsou didn't get his stupid eyebags smacked off of his face and Katsuki… well, he didn't like it when Kirishima walked out and he was ordered back down to his cave, but he did enjoy watching him go. 

Those jeans were a Christmas present to his eyes. 

On the seventh day of Christmas, Kirishima bought from me… seven stupid earmuffs, six singing penguins, five hundred chopsticks, four fucking dolphins?, three packs of tinsel, two shitty snowglobes and a tacky pink Christmas tree.

The blizzard had started up around five minutes before Katsuki's break which just about summed up his shitty luck because now he was trapped. 

In this hellish labyrinth of Christmas and despair. 

There was no escape. 

He stared in dismay as the snow started to pile up against the frozen-over window, broom forgotten in his loosely curled hand.

The door suddenly threw itself open and slammed shut again, punctuated by the sound of someone stomping their snowy feet on the welcome mat. 

Katsuki stared at the snowman with a gaping mouth. 

“What the fuck are you doing walking around in that ?” he demanded, as Kirishima set about shaking the snow and that coated his head and shoulders like a particularly enthusiastic golden retriever. 

“It’s freezing!”

“Exactly,” Katuski said, rolling his eyes and stashing his broom in the corner. “The idea is to not walk around in the middle of a fucking blizzard, dummy.” 

Kirishima looked at him, with a small pout on his face, and honestly, looked so pathetic that Katsuki couldn’t help but take a small amount of pity on him. 

He huffed. 

“Come on, let’s get you out of your coat - you’re soaked.” 

He helped Kirishima shrug his overcoat off and unwound his scarf, hissing at the freezing cold melted snow that it was drenched in. 

“You’re going to give yourself a cold, idiot,” he complained as he took the clothing over to a radiator to dry them out.

Kirishima hugged his frozen hands and pink fingers under his arms (his jumper today was another green carbuncle of a sweater with another Christmas tree and the caption: ‘ Xmas is Tree-mendous!’ . It was less soaked than his outer clothes but still a little damp so Katsuki rolled his eyes and dragged him over to the radiator too. 

“Sit here ‘til you’re dry,” he instructed and pushed him to sit on the floor. 

“You’re the best, Katsuki.” 

Oh, were they on a first-name basis now? Interesting. 

“Come sit with me for a bit?” 

Katsuki looked down at Kirishima’s wide, hopeful eyes and considered. 

There were no other customers or workers in: the last he had heard from Miruko was some tantrum about her car being stuck in the snow and Shinsou wasn’t scheduled to start for another hour or so… if he could even make it to the shop with the carnage outside. 

He slid down next to him before he was even really aware of what he was doing. 

The radiator was small, and he didn’t want to sit against freezing, wet clothes. 

Their shoulders touched. 

Katsuki tried to focus on relaxing. 

Kirishima turned to face him, one corner of his mouth pulled up in a smile. 

“Thanks, man. Don’t get in any trouble because of me again, though.”

“I won’t,” Katsuki replied, turning away and looking straight ahead, letting his head rest on the warmth behind him. “There’s no one else in right now.”

“Huh. Must have been boring.” 

Katsuki scoffed. “Nah, I prefer being alone.”

He felt Kirishima shift at that. “Really?” 

Katsuki looked at him. “What?”

“‘Cause I can leave if you-” he started to get to his feet. 

Katsuki rolled his eyes. “Sit down, idiot,” he growled, pulling Kirishima back down by his wrist. 

There was a short silence. For the first time possibly ever , Katsuki felt compelled to fill it and explain himself. 

“I didn’t mean anything by it,” he explained, looking resolutely at his shoes as he stretched his legs out. “I just meant… Shinsou’s an asshole and no one wants their boss breathing over their shoulder. So, I like it when I’m the only one working.” 

Another pause. 

“So, you wear the hat just for fun then?”

Katsuki swore and ripped the shitty thing from his head. He knew his hair would be an explosive mess underneath, but ruffled it quickly with his hand whilst the other threw the hat somewhere across the room. It didn’t go very far, too light to travel a significant distance. It landed crumpled on the floor, embarrassingly close to his feet. 

Kirishima laughed. Then shivered. 

Katsuki frowned. “Are you still cold?”

Kirishima shrugged, and wrapped his arms around his chest, huddling further into himself. 

Huffing, Katsuki darted his eyes across the room, looking for something to stop the miniscule shivering he was beginning to feel in Kirishima’s shoulders. 

“Wait there.” 

He got up and crossed the room, deliberately standing on that godforsaken hat as he went, and paused in front of a rack of winter wear. He considered what was in front of him critically before deciding they were all tacky as shit and Kirishima would love every single one of them. He grabbed a few at random and dropped them at Kirishima’s feet. 

“What’s th- oh my God. Christmas earmuffs!” 

“Yeah, yeah,” Katsuki mumbled as he reclaimed his warm seat. “Pick whatever you want.” 

Kirishima was holding three in his large hands, looking hopelessly confused. “But how can I pick just one?!” 

Katsuki shrugged, no longer even feeling the slightest bit alarmed at Kirishima’s awful taste in clothes and Christmas decorations. 

If anything, he was a little… endeared at Kirishima’s look of pure joy.

That was an unfamiliar feeling. It took him a good while to identify what that emotion was even called. 

Gross. 

Kirishima was looking at him expectantly, as if hoping Katsuki would tell him which one to wear. 

Katsuki was not so endeared that he would stoop down to the level of pretending to prefer reindeer-style earmuffs over moose-style earmuffs, so he gathered the rest of the ones still on the floor and dumped them all in Kirishima’s lap. 

“Have as many as you want.” 

Kirishima’s jaw dropped. “For real?” 

He immediately donned the two that were in his hand (the reindeer ears and the moose ears) and gathered the others like a small pile of treasure next to him. 

“I’m going to swap them every fifteen minutes until I find the right pair.”

“Sure.” Katsuki kept a straight face and waited for Kirishima to fully fold the earmuffs over his pink-tipped ear lobes. “Just so you know though, for hygiene reasons, you have to buy whatever you put on.”

He did it for a reaction. He knew Uraraka would immediately have bitched and smacked him with the earmuffs. Deku would probably have burst into tears. But Kirishima… Kirishima, once again, just took his shit with a genuine grin, as if Katsuki was simultaneously the funniest and most wonderful person he had ever met. 

“I guess I’ll just have to try them all on then!” 

And he looked so pleased and warm and cosy with his two ear muffs and ridiculous Christmas sweater, that Katsuki thought for a second that the warmth he felt rising in his chest might melt the snowdrifts building outside. 

Katsuki, for the first time in his life, wasn’t too sure what to do with himself or what to say. 

The wind howled. 

“Looks like we might be here for a while,” Kirishima commented, craning his head to look out of the almost pitch-black window. “Got any cards?” 

Forty minutes and a raid of Shinsou’s ‘secret’ snack loot found Katsuki and Kirishima sat cross-legged, facing one another, engaged in a vicious battle of Snap and chewing on strawberry laces and chocolate pocky. 

“Snap!”

“Snap! Fucking - snap! Goddammit!”

“I win again!” Kirishima cheered, half a strawberry lace dangling out of his mouth. He scooped up the pile of cards and added it to his growing deck which was vastly larger than Katsuki’s own. And Katsuki did not lose. To anyone. 

“Fucking… get ready.” 

He slammed his card down with enough force that he felt the sting in his palm when he smacked the floor. Kirishima delightedly followed with the same vigour. This repeated again, and again, and again, and again, until…

“Snap!”

“Snap!” 

Kirishima’s hand slapped the top card first but Katsuki was a millisecond behind. He tried to make a grab for the cards through the little barrier Kirishima had made with his fingers. 

“I said it first!” Katsuki insisted. "That was my win and you know it. Hand them over!” 

“Nope, I touched them first!” Kirishima argued, trying to claw the cards towards him, but Katsuki wasn’t backing down without a fight. 

“Oi! That’s not how - you can’t just make up the -” He was practically being dragged over Kirishima’s knees with the ferocity in which they fought over the cards. “Oi! Shitty Hair!” 

Kirishima actually let out a full snort of laughter that was half shocked and half genuinely amused.

“Oh, resorting to insults now, Bakugou?” he teased as he continued to wrestle for dominance. “That’s not very manly!” 

“I’ll show you who’s manly, you bastard,” Katsuki practically shouted, even as his arm twisted at an impossible angle. They continued fighting for the cards, grunting wordlessly at each other as they both refused to yield and accept defeat… until Katsuki felt an unfamiliar sensation between two of his ribs. He yelped, but didn’t let go of the cards. 

“What-” 

There it was again. 

“No-” 

“Ha! Are you ticklish , Bakugou?” 

“Stop-” another jab, this one lasting longer. Katsuki’s breath left his body. “What the f-” 

What the fuck was happening? 

It… wasn’t stopping. It was relentless. 

“Stop it!” 

… and with a shriek that he would never admit to making, Katsuki’s hand eventually jerked away from the cards. 

The jabbing immediately ceased. 

“I win again!” Kirishima declared. 

The room was suddenly very silent from their heavy breathing. Their scuffling and taunts had stopped abruptly and suddenly, Katsuki realised where he had landed. 

He was half-sprawled across Kirishima’s lap. Kirishima was leaning over him, one hand still hovering over his side. 

He could smell the sea-fresh detergent still clinging to Kirishima’s ridiculous jumper, and the musky, peppery smell of his deodorant. He could see every strand of bright-red hair that was starting to fall out of its gelled prison having mixed with the snow from earlier. He could see his eyes. Every faint laughter line. 

He felt the urge to touch. 

The warmth of Kirishima’s legs was searing underneath his back as he reached up slowly; whether it was to push his hair back into place or to trace the smoothness of Kirishima’s tanned cheek, he wasn’t sure. 

The back of his index and middle finger landed gently somewhere below his left cheekbone. Kirishima’s breath hitched at the contact, but his eyes stayed fixed on Katsuki’s own. Katsuki’s fingers moved in minute strokes, barely noticeable. Somewhere along the line, time and reality had stopped; his world had been whittled down to two solid facts: Kirishima was warm and his skin was soft. 

The spell was suddenly broken as the door was practically kicked open. Katsuki jumped like he had been electrocuted and scrambled to sit up and against the radiator without a single millimetre of his body touching Kirishima’s whatsoever. 

Kirishima was slower to move, still stuck on watching Katsuki’s every move. 

The slurping sound Katsuki had begun to associate with homicidal intent was Shinsou’s greeting as he slammed the door shut behind him, snow stuck to his eyelashes and streaking his ridiculous hair with white. 

He paused as he noticed Katsuki sat by the radiator, cheeks blazing red and Kirishima still half-prostrate on the floor, propped up on his forearms. 

“Hope I didn’t interrupt anything,” he stated, slurping once more and noisily making his way over to the till to sign in.

Katsuki sighed and hung his head.

What the fuck had just happened? 

Tiny Bakugou was confused too, looking around the central nervous system with a look of ‘ hell if I fucking know’ painted on his face like a large question mark. 

“I should just…” Kirishima had got to his feet without Katsuki realising, earmuffs piled up in his arms.

“Yeah.” 

Katsuki followed suit and led him to the tills. 

No words were exchanged as Katsuki rang him up and passed him back his earmuffs in a bag. 

Shinsou unabashedly stared at them the whole time, his wide eyes flicking between Katsuki and Kirishima as he slurped noisily on his straw. 

Katsuki was going to have to poke tiny holes in the fucking thing if he carried on.

The snow was still heavy, but the whiteout conditions seemed to have shifted momentarily. 

Kirishima shrugged his coat back on and wrapped the scarf tightly around his neck. 

“I should take the opportunity to try and get home while there’s a break in the storm,” he said, rubbing the back of his head and making the hair stick up dramatically. 

Katsuki nodded. 

“See you later, I guess?” 

Katsuki nodded. 

Kirishima walked towards the door, stepping carefully over the hat that was still on the floor. 

“Don’t forget your hat!” 

Katsuki nodded and kept doing so until the door was shut, and the shop empty once more. 

Sluuuuuuuurp. 

Well, mostly empty. 

“Wow, you handled that really well,” Shinsou drawled from where he had suddenly popped up a few inches from Katsuki’s left ear. 

Katsuki nodded, turned on his heel, went down the stairs to the stockroom, tried once again to snap the fucking Christmas CD that haunted his nightmares, and screamed into a few boxes as he unpacked them. 

On the eight day of Christmas, Kirishima bought from me… eight pairs of Crocs, seven stupid earmuffs, six singing penguins, five hundred chopsticks, four fucking dolphins?, three packs of tinsel, two shitty snowglobes and a tacky pink Christmas tree.

The storm had died down considerably overnight to a point where there was still a significant amount of snow on the ground, but life could continue pretty much as usual once the gritters had salted the roads and pavements. It was now late into the evening, the shop was locked up, and Katsuki was more than ready to go home. It was the first day Kirishima hadn’t come into the shop since he had started working there. He wasn’t sure how he felt about it. 

Katsuki was absently dusting the snowglobes when he heard the commotion outside. 

“Give me your fucking wallet.” 

“Hey!” 

That second voice was familiar. 

“Get away from her!” 

Katsuki felt the blood drain from his face as he realised what he was listening to. 

“The fuck did you say to me, you little asshole?” 

Before he realised his brain had sent signals to his legs to move, Katsuki was fumbling with the lock on the shop’s door. 

“I said leave her alone! Or I’ll make you!”

That last part was snarled. It was jarring hearing such an angry tone wearing Kirishima’s voice. 

He managed to shove the door open as the first punch landed. 

The woman being threatened had clearly taken the opportunity to run away and was nowhere to be seen. Kirishima was already on the ground, guarding his face with his forearms as the bastard who had started the whole fight was raining kicks on his torso and protected head. 

“Hey!” Katsuki yelled, running towards the would-be mugger. He threw his arms around his giant chest and pulled him back, using the element of surprise to knock him off-balance. As he threw the idiot to the pavement, he noticed with some pride that Kirishima had clearly got a good punch in before Katsuki had managed to run out - the asshole's nose was clearly broken. He straddled his waist to keep him down with some sort of hysterical strength and looked wildly around for help. 

A small crowd had started to form. 

“Fucking call the police!” he shouted at some random woman before using both hands to try and keep the criminal pinned down. He was flailing and bucking, trying to knock Katsuki off of him like some feral animal, but luckily, some of their audience broke ranks to come and help hold him down. Katsuki slipped off his waist and shuffled over to Kirishima who was sat upright in the snow, holding a hand under his bloody, dripping nose. A woman in a pencil skirt and high heels was crouched next to him, offering him a tissue, but Kirishima seemed too dazed to really notice it. 

Confident that someone had followed his instructions to call the police and that the five members of the crowd were able to sit on the mugger and keep him still, Katsuki took the offered handkerchief himself and held it against Kirishima’s nose. 

That seemed to snap him back to awareness. 

“Kats’ki?” 

His voice was nasal from the blood and muffled by the tissue. 

“Yeah, it’s me,” Katsuki replied, not moving his hand away from Kirishima’s face. “You’re a big damn hero, aren’t you?”

Kirishima blinked rapidly, as if trying to clear his vision. 

“You think I’m a hero?”

“The biggest,” Katsuki placated. He nodded to the woman who backed off and he put his arm around Kirishima’s back. “Think you can stand?” 

Kirishima nodded once and braced his legs against the pavement. Katsuki hauled him up with some difficulty - the pavement was icy and Kirishima was made of solid muscle. 

“I called an ambulance too!” someone called from the crowd as they staggered towards the shop. 

“Thanks,” Katsuki grunted, “send them into Rebels Without a Clause ; we’ll be in there.” 

“Don’t need an ambulance-” Kirishima mumbled, still leaning more than half his weight onto Katsuki’s shoulder. 

“Sure you don’t, hero. Let’s get you inside.” 

Katsuki shut the door on the rest of the world. 

He dragged Kirishima over to the stool he had been using to reach the snowglobes on the top shelf and dropped him on it as gently as he could.

“Wait there.” 

He let go of his shoulder and Kirishima immediately listed to one side. Katsuki grabbed him again and leaned him back against the counter. He removed his hands a little more hesitantly this time and only moved away to grab the first aid kit from under the till once he was sure Kirishima wasn’t going to topple over. 

He kneeled back next to Kirishima with the bag. Kirishima watched him with slightly-awe struck eyes that Katsuki did his best to ignore as he took out a wad of gauze with one hand and a chemical cold pack with the other. 

“Tilt your head forward,” he instructed, gently pushing the gauze against his nose with more care than he thought he was capable of. Kirishima did so, still trying to keep Katsuki in his line of sight as he aimed his face towards the floor. 

They sat silently together for a few moments, Katsuki only pausing to dab at Kirishima’s face where blood had dripped past his lips and onto his chin. 

Kirishima’s eyes focused more as time went on until he suddenly frowned, looking devastated. 

“M’shoes!” 

Katsuki followed his line of sight. 

He paused. 

“What the fuck are they?”

Kirishima frowned and studied his feet again, as if to make sure they were both seeing the same thing. 

“Uh…. m’shhhhhoes?” 

His voice was still a little slurred.

“You have absolutely no business calling these things shoes,” Katsuki scolded, looking at his footwear with disgust, “and absolutely no business walking around in the snow with them on. Are you crazy?”

Kirishima seemed unphased. “I’ve just fibished w’rk…” 

“You wore them to work?” Katsuku cursed under his breath. “How haven’t you been fired yet?”

Kirishima still looked confused. “They’re p’rt of the un’form. And they’re combfy.”

“ Crocs are part of your uniform?” 

“Yeah?” 

Katsuki sighed and counted mentally to five. 

“Well, not anymore,” he finally said, taking the gauze away and peering closely to see if the bleeding had stopped. He replaced the cloth with the ice pack. “They’re fucking trashed.”

Kirishima sighed. “I guess I neeb a new pair,” he lamented.

At that moment, Katsuki wasn’t sure what came over him. He should have rejoiced at the timely death of those godforsaken shoes and dragged Kirishima to the nearest shoe store as a matter of urgency to sort out this crime against footwear and fashion… and that was coming from someone with bright red cheeks and painted freckles on his face. 

What actually happened was that Katsuki sighed again and grabbed Kirishima’s hand, pressing it against the ice pack. He then stood and trudged over to a particularly shadowy corner of the shop where they kept the - he shuddered - Christmas Crocs. 

“What’s your shoe size?” he demanded gruffly, shoving his hands in his pockets as he scanned the pegs in front of him as they had personally offended him. 

“Uhhhh… 28?”

Scowling, he picked the least offensive pair possible (white ones with little snowman faces on the end of the straps) and tossed them at Kirishima’s feet. 

Kirishima’s eyes took on that awestruck quality once again as he gazed up at Katsuki, all huddled up in his winter’s coat with an ice pack on his face and looking so ridiculous that Katsuki’s heart rate immediately tripled. 

“On the house,” he said gruffly, avoiding making contact with Kirishima’s eyes (which practically had stars in them at this point) and taking his place back next to him, on the floor next to the stool. 

“How’d ya know?” Kirishima asked as he took the ice pack away from his face, sounding like he was on the verge of tears yet again. 

“What?” Katsuki snapped, starting to feel very stressed by the prospect of feelings being spoken about aloud.

“I was on my way here to buy more.”

Katsuki stared at him. “The fuck?”

“I wanted a pair for ev’ry day ob the week and I saw you hab them yesterday,” Kirishima explained, still looking between his new Crocs and Katsuki like both of them were piles of precious jewels. “An’ then… you gabe be dese!” 

 “Hell of a way to get in here after hours.” 

“Wha’?”

“We close early on Thursdays, dummy. I only opened the door because I heard what was happening outside.” 

“Oh,” Kirishima simply said, placing his ice pack back on his nose. “Well. Glad I cabe anyw’y. I’b glad you din’t get hurt.”

Katsuki blinked. 

“And I’b glad I still got to see you,” he continued, as his nose started to trickle again. He smiled wide, his teeth bloody. “Worth it.”

Before Katsuki could even begin to completely stop functioning or panic, let alone choke out a response, the door swung open and a blast of frigid air burst in along with…

“Miruko?” 

“Hey, kid! I was on my way in to pick up a delivery and someone told me what happened! There’s police and press outside - any publicity is good publicity I g- holy shit, kid, what happened to your face ?”

Kirishima looked alarmed and pulled his ice pack away again, going cross-eyed as he tried to look down at his nose. 

Katsuki grit his teeth. 

“There’s blood everywhere, ” Miruko carried on, “that’s badass. You were the good guy right?”

“He saved some broad from getting mugged,” Katsuki explained, shoving the ice pack back onto Kirishima’s face, “paramedics’ll be here soon.”

Miruko bounded over and crouched in front of Kirishima, peering at him intently. She then barked out a laugh. 

“Yep, that’s a broken nose. You’ve bled all over my floorboards!”

Kirishima looked absolutely mortified. “I’b so so-” 

“Are you kidding?” Miruko practically shouted in his face, “this is fantastic! This’ll be in all the local papers tomorrow and Rebels Without a Clause was the scene of all the action! You’re a hero, kid!” 

“He was only here to buy some shitty Crocs.”

Miruko’s eyes went wide. 

“For real?” she demanded. Kirishima nodded, still looking a bit scared of her. “Why didn’t you say so? Here!” 

She practically ran over to the Croc shelf and grabbed as many as she could fit in her arms, again dumping a pile at Kirishima’s feet. 

“The least I can do to thank you for all the publicity we’re about to get! Here,” she bent over and yanked Kirishima’s bloody, broken Crocs off his feet and replaced them with a new pair before Katsuki could even blink. “Show off some merch in your pictures, yeah? Katsuki!”

Did she just… click at him? 

Katsuki’s blood boiled. 

“Go get him a bag to put all his shoes in!” 

Katsuki grumbled but did as he was told, aggressively shaking one out and shoving the Crocs in by the handful.

Though he still looked mildly afraid of the woman, Kirishima looked wonderfully pleased. On seeing the expression on his face, Katsuki put the rest of the shoes in a little more carefully. 

Two paramedics arrived not long after. A quick glance and a painful poke confirmed that Kirishima had a broken nose and, whilst he wasn’t concussed, he had been a bit dazed by the blows to his face. He would be fine, if a bit bruised in all of his Christmas pictures. 

When all was said and done, Miruko helped him to his feet. 

“C’mon, kid. I’ll give you a ride home.”

The door shut. Katsuki glanced around him, faced with a pile of gauze and a puddle of blood congealing on the floor. 

Festive. 

“I’ll just clean this shit up then, huh?” he asked into the silence around him. 

On the ninth day of Christmas, Kirishima bought from me… nine knitted Santas, eight pairs of Crocs, seven stupid earmuffs, six singing penguins, five hundred chopsticks, four fucking dolphins?, three packs of tinsel, two shitty snowglobes and a tacky pink Christmas tree.

“Oh my God!” 

The shrill squeal cut right through Katsuki’s head. His shoulders immediately tensed as his eyes screwed up into a defensive scowl (the default expression for: ‘keep the fuck away from me and do not engage’) before spinning round to snarl and snap at whatever moron had the audacity to speak so loudly when their voice sounded like that. 

A girl with bubblegum pink hair, curly and short, stood in front of the till looking absolutely (and worryingly devilishly) thrilled. 

“Can I help you?”

She screwed up her nose as if disappointed. 

“Awwww,” she sulked with a pout, “I wanted the full Rebels Without a Clause experience. Isn’t there meant to be an opening speech?”

“Not for you.”

The girl laughed. As if he had said something funny. What the hell was going on recently? He must be off his game - people kept laughing at him rather than cowering away in terror.

“You must be Bakugou Katsuki!”

That immediately got his back up. Tiny Bakugou was already rolling his sleeves up. Who was this bitch? How did she know his name? Had Uraraka’s post gone viral or something? Was she a crazed fan? Holy shit, he was going to have to change his name and move to Iceland and this was probably all somehow Deku’s fault and-

“I can see why Kirishima likes you!”

-oh.

Kirishima had… talked about him?

His stomach jolted at the thought and not unpleasantly. 

He realised belatedly he had taken just a touch too long to reply so he fell back on an irritable grunt and a classic: “Not sure why he likes you.”

She simply laughed again. Dammit. 

“I’m actually here to pick something up for him!” she said, as if Katsuki gave any shits as to why she was stood there. “He’s on house arrest today after what happened last night - you should see his black eyes today, they’re so bad - so I wanted to get him something to cheer him up.”

Katsuki felt an unfamiliar twinge at her words. Was he… worried? No, of course he wasn’t. He couldn’t even call Kirishima a friend, let alone anyone he had the right to fuss over… right? 

“Well good luck with that,” he replied, feeling uneasy, “he’s already bought most of the shop.”

“I’m sure there’s something!” the girl sang as she hopped around, looking and cooing at some of the God awful shit he was forced to foist upon unsuspecting Christmas shoppers. 

He stood with his arms tightly crossed as she did so, lips tightly pressed shut as he tried his best to consolidate what the fuck he was feeling right now. 

His eyes widened as it hit him like a snow globe to the balls. 

Oh fuck.

The girl sang along out-of-key to the stupid Christmas CD. 

Oh fuck. 

“Ooh this would be perfect!” 

“Oh fuck.”

“Are you okay?” 

Katsuki blinked and suddenly the girl was back in front of him, clutching a crocheted Santa and peering at him with some concern. 

“Fine,” he immediately bit out, though internally, Tiny Bakugou was running around screaming, crying and throwing up as the central nervous system burned down around him.

He liked him. 

Like. Liked liked him. 

Like. Wanted to see him light up with happiness on a wintery walk around Musutafu’s Christmas market. Like. Was bothered by the idea of someone laying their filthy fucking villain hands on it, he was going to murder that loser if he ever saw him again. Like. Kinda wanted to sit on the floor and play cards and touch his face except with his lips. 

The girl was watching him and looked a little smug, as if she had any idea what he was thinking about. 

He finally looked down at the basket she held in the hand that wasn’t gripping the little crocheted Santa. It was filled with more crocheted Santas. 

“Does he really need nine of them?” he questioned (completely setting the idea that he would buy Kirishima fifty-nine handmade Santas if it made him smile on fire).

“Well,” the girl started to explain. Katsuki regretted asking. “One is for him. The others would be a great addition to the wishing tree.”

“The fucking what tree?”

Mina placed the basket back in the pile by the door and fished her pink, leopard-print purse out of her rucksack. 

“The wish tree,” she repeated as if it were obvious. “You know, kids whose parents can’t afford to get them much write what present they want on a tag and hang it on the wishing tree. Someone then buys them that gift so they have something to open!” 

“And nine kids asked for crocheted Santas?”

“No, but I like to throw in an extra present for as many of them as I can!” 

Wow, Katsuki felt like an asshole. 

What a horrendously good person this girl was. 

“Anyway,” the girl continued as she put her purse away and picked up her huge bag of Santas, “my name is Ashido Mina! It’s only fair you should know my name seeing as I know yours and that I’m about to threaten you.”

She said the latter part so cheerfully, that it took Katsuki a few seconds to clock her words. 

“Wait, what?”

“Kiri’s a great guy. He’ll do anything for anyone,” she said, still smiling unnervingly. 

Katsuki knew that. He kind of hated that he knew that, and hated even more the warm and fond feelings it triggered in the bottom of his stomach, but why was she telling him? 

“And,” she continued, “if you hurt him or take advantage of that kindness in any way… I’m afraid I’ll have to use my not-so-humble internet skills to destroy you. Baby photos? Piano recitals? I will find it and I will share it. Have a lovely rest of your day, okay!”

And with a twirl, she skipped out of the shop and out onto the street.

Katsuki gaped after her. 

This was why like liking people was a pain in the fucking ass.

On the tenth day of Christmas, Kirishima bought from me… ten tonnes of sugar, nine knitted Santas, eight pairs of Crocs, seven stupid earmuffs, six singing penguins, five hundred chopsticks, four fucking dolphins?, three packs of tinsel, two shitty snowglobes and a tacky pink Christmas tree.

"Wow, that Pink Eye girl wasn't lying," Katsuki said with a low whistle, "you look like crap."

Kirishima gave him a deadpan look and stared him out for a few seconds before replying: "Thanks. Just the self-esteem boost I needed." 

Katsuki shrugged unapologetically. He was many things, but a liar wasn’t one of them, and Kirishima really did look like… well, like he’d stepped in the way of an attempted mugging two days ago. 

“It looks pretty badass.” 

He froze. That sounded almost like… a compliment. Kirishima peered at him again from his position by the refrigerated shelves of cheesecakes, mochi and kurisumasu keki as if he was trying to figure something out. 

Katsuki panicked for just a split second before reigning in his goddamn emotions and setting the world right again. 

“You know, if you ignore the shitty hairstyle and terrible fashion sense.”

Kirishima smirked. “You love my Christmas jumpers and you know it.”

And, Christ help him, he was starting to love the ridiculous Christmas jumpers. Today’s was particularly awful - it was bright blue and had an ironed-on, close up cartoon of an laughing Elf’s face; its eyes were screwed shut, complete with tears springing from the corners and its mouth wide and mirthful. It had a caption that simply stated: ‘Elfin’ hilarious!’. It wasn’t entirely clear what was ‘elfin’ hilarious’ but if it made Kirishima happy and warm, Katsuki didn’t really give a shit if he had missed the joke. 

He realised he was staring, and Kirishima’s smile had widened. 

Fuck. 

“What the fuck else do you have to buy in here anyway?” he questioned roughly, tearing his eyes away incredibly subtly and staring at a ceiling beam because it was particularly fascinating and he was doing absolutely fine, thank you very much. “Pretty sure you’re the only reason this shithole is still in business.” 

Kirishima looked offended. “It’s not a shithole!” he gasped. “It’s the most magical place on earth!”

“I think you’re confusing us with Disneyland, loser.”

“Nah,” Kirishima said decisively, turning back to look at the desserts, “I much prefer the people here.”

Tiny Bakugou promptly died dramatically. He was on the floor. There was no hope. 

Katsuki’s heart thudded. 

“Oh yeah?” he questioned, trying to sound like his mouth hadn’t completely dried up like he had swallowed a handful of sand and like he wasn’t starting to sweat under his ridiculous hat like a goddamn sap. 

“Yeah,” Kirishima replied. Then paused. “I mean, Shinsou’s really cute, don’t you think?” 

Katsuki choked. 

“You asshole, take that back!” he shouted, “don’t give him the impression  that he’s tolerable in any circumstance.”

“I heard that!” sang a smug voice from down in the bowels of the stock room. “Thanks Kirishima!” 

“Get back into your cave, stock gremlin!” Katsuki hollered back down. “Stop eavesdropping too!” 

By the time he had stopped bitching at Shinsou, Kirishima had brought his basket to the till. It was piled full of nearly every dessert that they sold. 

“You gonna eat all that?”

Kirishima shrugged. “I need something to cheer me up. My face hurts.”

“Maybe if you, I dunno, rested like you were told to , it wouldn’t be so bad.”

“Katsuki.” Kirishima looked touched. “I didn’t know you cared.”

“I don’t,” Katsuki quickly rebuffed, handing over his receipt. “Good day.”

“ Good day?”

“I SAID GOOD DAY.” 

---

After he had shooed the last customer out of the door and locked up for the evening, Katsuki was once again accosted by the cursed sound of slurping inches behind his shoulder. 

He jumped. 

“Fucking - stop doing that. ”

Shinsou looked back at him expressionlessly and slurped again. 

“You should ask him out.” 

Katsuki fished out a pair of scissors he had in his apron pocket and snipped the middle of the straw. 

“My straw!” Shinsou lamented, looking affronted. “Was this because he called me cute?” 

Katsuki ignored him and stomped to the door, shrugging his coat on as he went. 

“Bakugou?” 

Katsuki continued to ignore him. 

“Was it ‘cos we flirted?” 

He slammed the door behind him. 

On the eleventh day of Christmas, Kirishima bought from me… eleven broken baubles, ten tonnes of sugar, nine knitted Santas, eight pairs of Crocs, seven stupid earmuffs, six singing penguins, five hundred chopsticks, four fucking dolphins?, three packs of tinsel, two shitty snowglobes and a tacky pink Christmas tree.

“Bakugou?” 

Kirishima’s voice was like a breath of warm, spring air in the freezing cold room that made Katsuki’s teeth chatter and goosebumps rise on his arms. He hated the winter at the best of times: fucking ice, fucking snow, fucking 'but it's Christmas, Kacchaaaaan' , and now of course, the heating had broken. 

Not the CD player. 

Not the fucking disc that was going to haunt Katsuki in his nightmares.

But the heating. He had never been so cold in his goddamn life. 

“Down here,” he grunted, pulling out his second large box of loose tree decorations. 

Kirishima’s boots were heavy on the wooden floor as he approached. His handsome face suddenly appeared as he crouched down, one hand still on the till counter to balance himself as he joined Katsuki on the floor with his box and a black bin bag. 

“Whatcha doing?” 

“Sorting out the broken shit from the stuff that can be sold. Though who the fuck would buy this tacky shit is…” he paused, and looked at Kirishima: the one driving force behind the shop making any sort of profit. “Never mind.”

As he spoke, he spotted a bauble that had a significant chip in the paintwork and he shoved it in the bin bag. 

Kirishima grabbed his wrist. “Hey, hang on! What are you doing?”

Katsuki scowled. “Well, if I can’t sell it, what else am I gonna do with it?”

“You can’t just throw it out , look at it, all sad and damaged,” he pouted, grabbing the bauble out of the bag and holding it like it was a delicate treasure. “It just needs a bit of love!” 

Katsuki was so confused as to why the fuck his hormones and brain had decided to like like this particular idiot. Feelings were so weird. He hated them. 

“Knock yourself out, I guess,” Katsuki eventually said, going back to sorting through his box, “not like I can sell them anyway.”

Katsuki spent the next few minutes pulling out broken baubles and handing them to Kirishima who sat waiting patiently and taking his treats like a particularly well-behaved puppy. 

Katsuki quickly ran his hand through the remaining ornaments, giving them a quick once over to make sure he hadn’t missed any before slapping the dust off his hands and looking back at his… customer? Friend? 

“I think that’s- what the hell are you doing?” 

Kirishima beamed at him. 

Katsuki was sure he had never seen anyone look so goddamn happy in his life. 

The baubles weren’t in his hand or in a basket. Instead, Kirishima had been steadily attaching the baubles to the spikes in his hair, steadily becoming a ridiculous, bright red human Christmas tree. 

Katsuki couldn’t help the surprised laugh that fell out of his mouth. 

Kirishima held for a moment, but quickly dissolved into giggles as well. 

“You look ridiculous,” Katsuki eventually managed to get out between gasps, and Kirishima held out the final bauble he hadn’t put in his hair yet. 

“ You’re the one who looks ridiculous without one!” 

He flushed as Kirishima pulled his hat off and ran a quick hand through his hair to fluff it back up again where it had flattened underneath the material. He gently pulled a spike up and threaded a bauble through, though without hair gel it lacked the required stiffness. Kirishima ended up balancing it on the top of his skull. Katsuki indulged him, and kept his head very still. 

“How do I look?” 

Kirishima’s hand hadn’t left the back of his head where he had kept it in place to thread the decoration on.

His hand was warm, and he looked at Katsuki with his lips still turned up in a half-smile. 

“Gorgeous,” he breathed, still a little breathless from laughter. 

Katsuki looked back at him. 

His face was very close. 

At this distance, he could see a light brushing of freckles over his cheeks and nose, and a tiny scar buried in his eyebrow. A few strands of erubescent hair had come loose from his spikes and brushed his smooth, olive forehead. He could count every eyelash and every beat from the rushing pulse in his throat - it timed up with his own rushing heart. 

He shifted a little, his jeans and coat scraping gently on the wooden floor as he shuffled closer towards Katsuki, their knees now touching as he sat cross-legged, mirroring Katsuki’s position. 

He was so warm. 

Katsuki’s heart leapt into his throat. 

Was he about to-

Soft, chapped lips suddenly enveloped his own and Katuski drowned in their heat, surprise making his eyes spring open and his mouth go lax. Kirishima persisted, and eventually, Tiny Bakugou jolted back to life and began sending commands once more, as Katuski himself was certainly unable to do anything other than stare somewhere around Kirishima’s nose. Eventually, his brain caught up, and his eyes fluttered shut as he kissed him back. 

There was a faint crack as the bauble fell off the top of his head. 

All too soon, Kirishima was pulling back. Katsuki resisted the urge to follow. 

Kirishima cleared his throat and rubbed the back of his neck. Katsuki was well aware that he was staring at him, eyes wide once more, but he’d expended all of his mental energy in actually responding to being kissed, rather than just sitting there statue-still like a weirdo. He had nothing left to give. Tiny Bakugou was just as useless, sat in a huddle on the floor and wondering what the hell was going on. 

“I should-” Kirishima started. Katsuki still stared at him. He still looked ridiculous with all the baubles in his hair. “I’ve got… work.”

It sounded like an excuse. 

“I’ll just-”

Kirishima had always known what to say and seemed so comfortable in his own skin and actions - was it possible that he was as unsure and out of his depth as Katsuki was? His flushed cheeks and stuttered half-sentences would suggest so. 

He stood up. Katsuki stood with him, not really knowing what he was doing (or where he was, who he was, and how this had somehow become his life.) 

Kirishima screwed his face up and seemed to be having some sort of internal battle. 

It always worried Katsuki when he thought that hard - he was concerned he might genuinely hurt himself. 

“Listen,” he finally said, reaching a hand out and then seemingly deciding against it and shoving his hands in his pockets instead. “I- I really gotta go but… can I see you tomorrow?”

Katsuki blinked. “Sure.”

Kirishima looked a little shocked, then relieved. “That was ok?”

Katsuki mouthed wordlessly at him for a second, before the basics of spoken Japanese started to trickle back into his useless brain. “Sure.” 

“Cool!” 

“... Cool.” 

“I’ll see you tomorrow, then!” 

And he seemed to change his mind once again. His hand darted out and snagged Katsuki’s arm, and he gently pulled on his sleeve urging him closer. Katsuki allowed his feet to move his body forward. 

Kirishima looked at him so softly; softer than anyone had ever looked at him. He didn't deserve soft looks and touches, yet with all the force and weight of a tiny feather, Kirishima brushed his lips on his cheek. 

Before Katsuki knew it, the only evidence that Kirishima had been in the room was the lingering warmth on his cheek. 

He touched it dumbly. 

And smiled. 

On the twelfth day of Christmas, Kirishima bought from me… twelve frozen turkeys, eleven broken baubles, ten tonnes of sugar, nine knitted Santas, eight pairs of Crocs, seven stupid earmuffs, six singing penguins, five hundred chopsticks, four fucking dolphins?, three packs of tinsel, two shitty snowglobes and a tacky pink Christmas tree.

Katsuki launched the wrapped box at Shinsou’s face as soon as he was in the door. 

“What the f- ooooof!” 

“Merry fucking Christmas, asshat.” 

Shinsou held the fucking delightful ribbon that was tied into a fucking beautiful bow on top of the gift between his thumb and forefinger and held it at arm’s length like it was a bomb.

He grimaced, his eyes flicking between the present and Katsuki. “What is it?” he eventually asked warily. 

“What do you mean ‘what is it?’ ?” Katsuki demanded, rolling his eyes. “That’s the point, you’re meant to open it, moron.”

Shinsou started to hesitantly tug at the ribbon before pausing again. “It’s not gonna hurt me, is it?”

“Coward. Open. It. ”

Shinsou sighed and did so, pulling the paper from the sellotape with maddening hesitancy but he eventually revealed its contents. 

“... It’s a box.”

Katsuki was about to lose his goddamn patience.

Why did he bother being nice?

“Open it then,” he huffed impatiently.

Shinsou did so and peered in. His eyes softened. 

“It’s a straw. For my coffee cup.”

Katsuki rolled his eyes. “Yeah. Sorry I broke your old one. Or whatever.”

Shinsou narrowed his eyes again. “What happened to you?”

“The fuck are you talking about?” 

“Were you visited by your old business partner that you may or may not have murdered?”

“What the f-”

“Were you exposed to Christmas past, present and future and realised that everyone hated you?”

“Oh my God,” Katsuki eventually exploded, storming over to Shinsou. “If you don’t want the straw, give it back.”

Shinsou turned his back on him, huddling over his straw protectively. “No, it’s mine!” 

He quickly snagged his coffee cup that he had put down on the counter next to him in order to open his gift and put his straw into it, shoved it into his mouth and sluuuuurped. 

Katsuki shuddered at the sound. 

“See, it’s got my germs on it now. It’s mine.”

“What are you, six?”

“Eighteen, actually.”

“Get back down into your stock cave, gremlin.”

---

“Hey!” 

Katsuki promptly dropped the glass vase he was holding in his hand. 

(No real loss, it was shaped like a stupid snowman anyway.)

Crash. 

“Uh. Hey,” he said, as he tried to lean casually against the till counter and toe the shards of glass out of Kirishima’s line of sight as if that would somehow cover up his response to hearing Kirishima’s very reasonable greeting.

“Hey,” Kirishima chuckled, his cheeks as red as Katsuki’s felt. “Want some h-”

“No. I meant to do that,” Katsuki cut him off gruffly. “Looks better like this anyway.”

Luckily, he was the last one in the shop today, having agreed to work a longer shift to close that evening so that Miruko and Shinsou (who lived further out than Katsuki did) could get home at a decent time on Christmas Eve. 

He was a fucking Saint, honestly. 

Did some of Kirishima’s goodliness rub off on him when they had kissed?

He flushed deeper. 

They had kissed. What the fuck did he do now? 

“Well, luckily for you, there’s a last minute bunch of stuff that I need to buy that should cover that vase you just broke.”

“You may as well have bought the whole fucking business off of Miruko at this point,” Katsuki grumbled as he bent down with a dustpan and brush to clear the scene of evidence. 

Kirishima chuckled. “Retail isn’t really my thing. I like my job!” 

Katsuki looked up at him and studied him more carefully. He was wearing one of his new pairs of Crocs and a nicer-than-usual, dark green hand-knitted jumper with ‘ Your Presents is Requested’ stitched on in looped white calligraphy. 

He couldn’t hold back his curiosity anymore. 

“What do you do?” Katsuki questioned. “What kinda job requires you to wear a whole wardrobe of shitty Christmas jumpers and a pair of Crocs of all things?”

Kirishima looked surprised, then thoughtful. “Huh. I guess I never did tell you what I did for a living, huh?”

“So, what is it? Are you some sort of budget, red-headed, shitty-haired Santa or something?”

 “... Kinda, I guess.” 

Katsuki gestured impatiently at him to explain himself. 

“You know that charity a few blocks away? Christmas For a Clause? ”

Wait, what? That place Katsuki had point-blank refused to work for with Deku?

“Well, I may be the, uh… CEO? No, that’s kinda stupid but also… yeah, kinda true. I started it up when I was a kid with my parents and I took over when I turned eighteen. We run-”

“Christmas dinners for people who are lonely over the holidays. And give presents to children who won’t get much on Christmas day.”

Kirishima’s face lit up like a… well (Katsuki hated to say it)... like a Christmas tree.

“You know it?”

He sounded thrilled. 

Katsuki felt like a piece of shit. 

“I… Yeah, I - I turned down working there at the start of the month.”

Kirishima frowned. “How come?”

“I -'' the words died in Katrsuki’s mouth. He was such an idiot. A petty, immature idiot who didn’t even deserve to stand in Kirishima’s generous and wonderful presence. Someone like him didn’t deserve to be anything to someone as golden as Kirishima. 

But Kirishima was waiting for a response. 

And Katsuki was many things. 

But he wasn’t a liar. 

“I didn’t want to work with Deku so I… took this job as a forfeit.”

“Deku?”

“Uh…” his tongue actually struggled to form the correct sounds. “Midoriya. Izuku.”

Kirishima smiled in recognition. “Oh, Izuku! What a cool bro he is! Why didn’t you want to work with him?”

Katsuki couldn’t give him an answer, so he didn’t. 

And he wallowed. In his own asshole-ry. 

Was he seriously the kind of person who would rather work a humiliating job he fucking hated just to get away from Deku, rather than actually help vulnerable kids and shit? When the hell did he become that kind of arsehole? 

“Hey,” Kirishima was suddenly right in front of him, invading his space and holding out his hand. Katsuki looked at it warily; he didn’t deserve any kindness from possibly the kindest person he had ever met. 

“You… wanna come with me tonight?”

“Why do you want me there?”

Kirishima smiled shyly. “‘Cause I like you. You’re not a terrible human being for choosing a different job for a college reference, Katsuki. And besides, we could always use a few of Santa’s helpers in the kitchen!” 

Katsuki perked up at that. 

“I’m allowed to cook?”

“You like cooking?”

“I’m the fucking best cook you’ve ever met,” he said with a little more confidence, raising his chin once more. “My Christmas dinners are so good, that they’ll punch you in the face.”

Kirishima chuckled. “That makes like… zero sense but I love your spirit, dude!”

“What do you need? My shift’s over, so I can ring you up and cash out now.”

“Just some turkey!”

‘Just some turkey’ turned out to be the entire stock of the frozen section next to the refrigerated desserts that Kirishima had already wiped clean earlier in the week. All twelve turkeys were wrapped and bagged, slung like huge dumbbells over both of the boys’ shoulders. 

“Sure you got enough?” Katsuki deadpanned, breathless and sweaty under the weight of so many frozen birds. 

“Just about!” Kirishima responded cheerfully as he manoeuvred himself out of the door. 

Katsuki locked it with difficulty and stood back to admire the front of the shop one more time. His contract was only for the pre-Christmas period; by the 26th December, Rebels Without a Clause would be packed down and would cease to exist for the next eleven months. That was it. He never had to go back again. 

He craned his neck to gaze up at it, and tried to drag to the surface any sort of fondness or appreciation for the god awful, too-bright, tacky storefront, complete with tinny Christmas music and piss-poor fake snow. 

He tried to find a new appreciation for the colourful lights that dangled rustically from the windows and the waving elves on the glass panes like a five-year-old’s attempt at finger-painting. 

But he just couldn’t do it. 

In fact, it looked even worse than the first time he had laid eyes on it. 

Still, he hadn’t had a terrible time he supposed.

And as Kirishima hesitantly threaded his fingers through his, he couldn’t help but seriously consider that he’d be happy to do it all again next year.