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The paper wrapped loosely around the bouquet of flowers crinkled in his grip, rustling with each step towards the door. Anemones and white tulips, soft white petals unfurling amidst a bed of green leaves. He'd agonized over contradicting flower languages before the cute, helpful florist whom he definitely didn't dream about last night helped him assemble an apology bouquet.
Sincerity and forgiveness, she'd said cheerfully, winding a bright pink bow around the cut stems. Izuku privately thought they looked a lot like funeral flowers, but if Katsuki didn't forgive him, he might be needing a funeral so he supposed they would work either way.
The petals were pale and delicate under the sunlight, almost translucent. He'd always associated bright, vibrant colors with Katsuki, jet black and orange so neon it hurt to look at, but if this was what it took to earn his forgiveness, so be it.
When he got to his door, he had to shift the flowers into the crook of his elbow to fumble for his key, shoving his knuckles into his pocket until they met cold metal and a grenade-shaped keychain.
Tentatively, he nudged the door open. It didn't look like someone was lying in wait to murder him, so he stepped inside and took off his shoes, crouching down to set them inside the cupboard.
The clanging coming from the kitchen stopped and the oven hood turned off, leaving the house in silence. Izuku swallowed his nerves and steeled himself, gripping the bouquet a little tighter.
"Kacchan?" he said, raising his voice. "I'm here."
Katsuki stepped out from around the corner, scarlet eyes narrowed. A faint glimmer of interest flashed across his scowling face when he saw the flowers, but he didn't budge. "Fuck off."
"No!" He was stumbling over his words now. "I told you, I'm really sorry. You mean more to me than anything else and I know I ruined what we've been building together, but you know I'd never do it on purpose."
His scowl deepened. "Not on purpose, huh? How the hell can something like that be an accident?"
"I just wasn't thinking!"
"You should have been!"
"Kacchan," he whined, frustrated. "All I did was forget to use a coaster for my mug.”
Katsuki's face blazed with fury. "You left a fucking ring on the coffee table!"
"I"ll pay for it to get painted," he insisted. "Or I'll buy a new one. And I promise I'll never forget a coaster again." He held out the flowers. "Look, I got these for you."
Katsuki huffed, crossing his arms. "That's 'cause you have a crush on that damn florist."
"I–I–" he sputtered—"I do not!"
"Yeah, you fuckin' do."
Izuku tried to ignore the flush of heat in his cheeks. "I–I mean, she's nice, but I don't like her like that. I just went there to get flowers for you."
"And to talk to her," he countered.
"You're so stubborn."
"You're a dirty liar."
Izuku gave a deep sigh. "Can you just take the flowers and forgive me? I missed you all day."
He tried to maintain his scowl, but he couldn't hide the subtle softening of his eyebrows. Bingo. Izuku bit back a smile as he crossed the room to push the bouquet into Katsuki's hands, and took a careful moment to appraise his expression before he leaned in to press his mouth to Katsuki's.
Katsuki made a small noise and pushed him off. "You're gonna crush the flowers."
His voice was hopeful. "Do you like them?"
"Tch. No."
Still, Katsuki looked pleased as he slipped into the kitchen, presumably to find a vase. No matter how often he insisted he didn't care for flowers, there was always a shine in his eyes when he saw that Izuku had brought him a bouquet, so Izuku tried to do it at least once a week. It was just unfortunate that this week's bouquet accompanied an apology coming on the heels of an argument that culminated in them yelling at each other over a damn coaster before storming off to work.
They weren’t dating, exactly, but they weren’t just friends, either. It had always been them—Izuku and Katsuki, no matter whether they called themselves rivals or friends or lovers. There was never anybody else.
So he most definitely did not have a crush on the pretty florist with round cheeks and soft brown eyes who always gave him a bright smile when he came into the shop. She wasn't afraid of teasing him, either, calling him out without hesitation when he trekked in with eyes half-lidded from exhaustion. She had a sweet laugh, too, and–
"Oi, Deku!"
He snapped his attention back to Katsuki, who was glaring at him. "What?"
"Forget it," he grumbled. "You’re pathetic. I'm going to bed."
It took a moment of desperate concentration to realize that Katsuki had probably said something along the lines of I guess you can kiss me.
"Wait, Kacchan," Izuku called after him, dismayed at missing his chance. "Can I have a good night kiss?"
The response was immediate. "Die."
"Kacchan!"
Five minutes later, they were curled up on the couch, limbs tangled together. Katsuki’s legs were slung over Izuku’s thighs, his arm comfortably looped around Izuku’s neck. The living room lights were dimmed, leaving the room bathed in soft, pleasant orange; when it caught the petals of the flowers set in a vase on the coffee table, it made them glow like candlelight through milk.
Izuku let out a content sigh and wrapped his arms around Katsuki’s waist. They were tangled up close enough that he could feel the heavy tide of Katsuki’s breathing against his chest, the steady rhythm stuttering when the baking competition grew more intense than any baking show had a right to be.
They spent a lot of evenings like this, entwined on the couch with a lighthearted show playing on the television that they could binge without too much concentration. If Katsuki wasn’t in the mood, he’d fight clawing and biting against Izuku’s insistent attempts to wrestle him into something resembling a decent cuddling partner, but he’d given in fairly easily tonight after Izuku managed to fling him onto the couch and pressed wet kisses over his face until he let out a surprised laugh that broke down his barriers.
Katsuki’s voice was thick with sleep. “Did that chick help you pick the flowers?”
“You mean Uraraka-san?” he asked. He got a dull hum in response. “I knew the flower meanings, but I didn’t know which ones would look good together. She helped with that.”
“Mm. You gonna grow some balls and ask her out?”
Izuku was glad Katsuki couldn’t see his flushed cheeks from this angle. “Depends. Are you gonna ask someone out?”
He yawned, turning his face into the crook of Izuku’s neck and burrowing his cold nose into warm skin. “Nah. I get what I want from you.”
“Which is?”
“Don’t be stupid.” He elbowed Izuku in the ribs, light enough that it didn’t hurt. “It's just you. I don’t need some stupid extras up in my business.”
Despite the decidedly unromantic declaration, Izuku’s heart swelled. He almost considered asking Katsuki for a kiss, but instead he just hugged Katsuki a little tighter, breathing in the familiar scent of his hair. “I'll give you whatever you want.”
“I know that, dipshit. Now shut up—the judges are about to pick the winner and it better be Kayano or I’ll fuck them up.”
Kayano did not win. Izuku cursed the judges to the high heavens when he had to deal with an inconsolable would-be chef for the next hour.
-
“Did she like the flowers?”
Izuku looked up. “Excuse me?”
“The apology bouquet,” Uraraka clarified. Her face twisted with nervousness. “I'm sorry, I didn't mean to assume. It's just that most guys who ask for something like that buy them for their girlfriends or wives, so..."
Izuku had to hold back a smile. The shop was calm and quiet at this time; nine a.m., sunlight drifting lazily through the glass front doors. It weaved between rows of flowers, vivid petals and buds, and cast shifting patterns of gold over the trees in clay pots. Izuku had no business being at a flower shop at nine a.m., but here he was. Katsuki would tease him mercilessly if he found out.
Still, the shop itself was calming. The pretty pots, the quiet sound of trickling water trailing over the edges of the intricate fountains on display in the back garden of the store, which opened out onto a vegetable patch Uraraka once mentioned she cultivated herself, the coffee machine tucked away in a corner of the shop that was always surrounded with half-empty paper cups.
Uraraka was wearing a pale pink cardigan today, patterned with doodled strawberries, and her hair framed her face in a way that made it look even more round. Her skin looked so soft, her brown eyes warm liquid. Her nails were pink, just chipped enough to make him wonder whether she bit them, which made him think about her lips and how they would feel against his, and—
“Midoriya-san?”
“I don’t have a girlfriend,” he blurted out, waving his hands in a way that was definitely far too frenzied.
She blinked. “Then who are all these flowers for?”
Well, that was a question.
“My…” Izuku was struggling. “Uh. He's a friend.”
A faint glimmer of hope had passed across her face, though it could have been the reflection of his own, but she just looked confused now. “You get all these flowers for a friend?”
“Not exactly,” Izuku said, chewing on the inside of his cheek. “He’s my childhood friend. We grew apart in middle school and he bullied me for a while, but we became friends again in high school. After we graduated, we figured it would be easier to move in together.”
Her eyebrows drew together. “But you’re not dating.”
“Not really.”
“And you get him flowers all the time.”
“I know what it sounds like,” he said, abashed. “It’s a bit complicated.”
She gave a small smile. “If you guys are happy, I think that’s all that matters.”
A rush of relief coursed through him. "Thanks for understanding.”
“Of course,” she said, waving a hand. “It's nice to see someone wanting to make a loved one happy."
He couldn't help but smile, as he always did when he thought of Katsuki. Lemon blond hair and smooth, warm skin. The curve of his mouth when he grinned at Izuku in that triumphant way after winning a board game. The sound of his voice, whether he was yelling at Izuku for skipping meals or mumbling comforting words after a hard day. Fierce affection tightened Izuku's chest, so strong that he wanted to drop everything and charge straight to the agency just for the chance to catch a glimpse of Katsuki through the window.
"Would you like some tea?" Uraraka asked, turning back to the teapot on a small table behind the counter.
"I wish, but I have to get back to patrol. I just dropped in for another bouquet."
"You usually like them to have some kind of meaning, right?" She leaned against the counter, crossing one ankle over the other. "What do you want this time? Love, appreciation?"
He paused, considering the question, then leaned across the counter. "Can you make a bouquet that says, 'I'm sorry Kayano-san didn't hold up under pressure?'"
-
The soil was cool and damp against her bare knees, scratchy grains and pebbles rubbing her skin raw. Ochako raised a grimy hand to wipe the sweat from her forehead, streaking more soil across her face. She could feel the dirt and sweat clumping into a sticky mess, but she didn't care.
It was satisfying to work in the vegetable garden in the backyard of her shop, preparing the soil for the seeds. She hadn't crafted the labels for the patches yet, so she left each pack of seeds by the messy rows to remember what she was planting in each one. Cucumbers, basil, strawberries.
Today, Izuku hadn't dropped by–somehow, she couldn't help but think of him as Izuku instead of Midoriya. In the past month, he had bought flowers from her at least once a week, and while he usually visited on Friday to buy what he referred to as 'weekend celebration' flowers for his not-boyfriend, he hadn't come in today. She tried not to miss him but it was a fruitless endeavor. He was so friendly, always greeting her with a warm smile and those sparkling eyes that felt like a fireplace held close to her heart.
Still, it was just a crush. A harmless crush. It didn't mean anything if she lay awake thinking of him at night, imagining he would pick flowers for her that she didn't have to arrange into a bouquet for someone else. Besides, despite his insistence that he wasn't dating his roommate, she didn't want to get in between them when it was so obvious that Izuku was in love with him. She just had to push down her feelings, and the best way to do that was gardening.
"Having fun?"
She whipped around at the unfamiliar voice. A man was standing there, with a mess of blond hair framing his face and striking, scarlet eyes that almost looked amused. She recognized most people that came into her shop, but she had never seen this guy before.
"Sorry, I didn't think I'd get any customers this early," she said with an apologetic smile. "Is there something I can help you with?"
"Nah."
"Are you looking around, then?"
"Does it look like I am?"
A frown furrowed her eyebrows. She wiped the dirt off her hands and straightened up, crossing her arms. "Then what are you doing, other than barging into my garden and giving me attitude?"
He looked unbothered. "I wanted to see the person Deku won't shut up about."
"Who's Deku?"
He gave an impatient sigh, like she was the one being obtuse. "Green-haired guy, giant pain in the ass."
"Oh, Izuku," she said, realization dawning on her. At the look on the man's face, she quickly added, "Um, I mean Midoriya-san—wait. You're Kacchan?"
His lips curved into a grin. "It's Katsuki. Bakugou Katsuki."
Her mouth fell ajar. This was the person Izuku spoke of so fondly? She knew her blatant surprise probably wasn't polite, but it was hard to believe that someone as kind and sweet as Izuku would choose to live with someone who described him as a giant pain in the ass.
"You gonna stare like an idiot all day?" Katsuki said, raising an eyebrow.
That brought her out of her stupor. She glared at him. "You don't have to be so rude."
"This is me being nice, Round Face."
Her mouth fell ajar. "My face isn't round!"
"It is," he said teasingly. "All pink, too, like mochi."
She huffed. "Well, I like mochi, so I'll let that slide. What do you need, anyway?”
“I told you. Deku keeps going off to buy flowers from you every damn week, so I wanted to see what the hell all the fuss is about.” Katsuki looked over her, a quick, searching gaze that had heat teasing at her cheeks. “Guess the nerd has taste.”
Her face flared pink. “That’s not—” She averted her gaze, trying to compose herself. It was bad enough that she had a crush on Izuku; adding these confusing feelings into the mix would just make her life even more complicated. “Well. Thanks.”
“Whatever.” He jerked his head towards the vegetable patch. “What are you growing?”
“Some tomatoes, peppers—just common vegetables.” She paused, then added, “Do you want to help?”
His eyebrows lifted in surprise, but he shrugged and held a hand out for the packet of tomato seeds. It was an olive branch, and it was nice to have someone beside her while she planted the seeds, trying to give him instructions before he dismissed her with a scoff and the cocky assurance that he was great at gardening. She was prepared to pounce on any mistake he made, but to her distaste, or maybe reluctant approval, it turned out he really was decent.
“So, how long have you known Izuku?” she asked.
He glanced over at her, puffing a breath upwards to blow his sweaty hair away from his eyes. “Our moms were friends when we were toddlers.”
“That long?”
“Yeah.” He lifted a hand to wipe his forehead, leaving a patch of grime across his glistening skin. “He’s been stuck to me like a damn limpet all this time.”
She huffed a laugh. “He always talks really fondly of you.”
“I know.” The corners of his lips quirked up, faint enough that she wouldn’t have noticed it if her gaze hadn’t drifted down to his mouth. “Kacchan’s amazing, this, that. Got used to it.”
She couldn’t hold back the question any longer. “Is he your boyfriend?”
Katsuki laughed at that, more a surprised sound than amused. “Hell, no.”
“Are you seriously just friends? Because he calls you that, but he always hesitates like he’s gonna say something else, and I know it’s none of my business but—”
“Calm down, Cheeks.” He set another small handful of seeds into a shallow ditch, then leaned back and sat on the gravel beside the soil, pulling one knee up to his chest. “It ain't that complicated. There’s just no reason to call it anything when we’re stuck with each other for the rest of our lives anyway.”
Ochako hoped he couldn’t see her face fall. She tried to muster a smile. “That’s really sweet.”
“It’s whatever.” He gave her a devilish grin. “Why, you interested in him?”
Panic flooded her system. “N-no! Of course not!”
He released an exhale through his teeth. “Let me spell this shit out for you. I don’t care about relationships if it’s not that nerd, and he doesn’t want anyone else. Usually. But if you like him and you’re gonna treat him right, I don’t care what you do with each other.”
Ochako opened her mouth, then closed it. “That’s… interesting.”
"Not really." He jerked his head towards the rows of seeds. "Let's get this finished."
They continued planting the seeds, exchanging tidbits of conversation as they worked. She wished she could have hated the person her crush was in love with, but Katsuki was much cooler than she was willing to admit. He seemed to know a lot about everything, and he was funny even when he wasn’t trying to be. It was all too easy to see why Izuku liked him so much.
Even if Katsuki implied that Izuku had feelings for her, too, the idea of competing with the man in front of her felt ridiculous. He was devastatingly handsome, clever, and despite the jabs he made about Izuku, it was clear that he loved him, too. They had known each other all their lives and Ochako was just a little blip in comparison to a rich history.
Once they were finished with the seeds, a small twinge of sadness struck her. Despite herself, she’d had a good time, and the finished garden in front of her sent her crashing back to reality. It was bad enough that she had a consuming crush on Izuku—she didn’t need to fall for his boyfriend as well. She was just setting her stupid, soft heart up for failure.
Katsuki cleared his throat. “Looks pretty good, huh?”
“It does,” she said with a smile. “I appreciate the help.”
“It was nothing. You gonna put any labels?”
She brightened at the chance to share her favorite craft. “Yeah, I make them myself. I use these nice cards I have saved and some colorful markers, then put them on sticks—well. I guess you don’t need to hear all that.”
“Sounds dorky. I want in.”
“Really?”
“Sure. I’ve got nothing better to do.”
She had set up a station inside the shop for the project earlier today; a round, yellow table in the corner beside the tea and coffee machines, covered with calligraphy pens, markers, and cards of the perfect width. She pulled out an extra chair for Katsuki, then sat down in the shorter one, reaching for the red marker so she could start on the label for the tomatoes.
She was almost hoping Katsuki would be bad at this so she could tease him, but his handwriting turned out to be pretty decent, even if his calligraphy style wasn’t as whimsical as hers. The kanji characters were printed neatly, accompanied by sloppy doodles of each vegetable. It wasn’t perfect, but she couldn’t help but smile to herself. It had charm, at least.
Katsuki glanced up at her through his eyelashes. They were thick and long, far prettier than someone like him had a right to have. “What’re you smiling about?”
“Nothing,” she said hurriedly. Damn it. A few hours with Bakugou Katsuki and she was smiling like a lovesick teenager. Curse her heart for getting her into these situations. “I’m just, uh, happy that the labels are coming out well.”
“Tch. Yeah, right.”
“You’re kind of a jerk, you know.”
“That's your problem.”
“Why is it mine? ”
He looked unbothered. “‘Cause you didn’t kick me out. I gotta go now, anyway—the nerd’s gonna be home soon and if I don’t make dinner, he’ll just get takeout again.”
Her heart clenched. “You really care about him.”
Katsuki’s expression went more serious than it had been all day. “I don’t halfass anything. I wouldn’t be with him if I wasn’t in it a hundred fucking percent—and he puts his whole heart into everything he does, too. He sure as hell isn’t waltzing around town looking for something to stick his dick into.”
“I can tell,” she agreed. “But that’s not what I’m looking for, either. I just… I like him.”
That seemed to satisfy him. “Good.” He stood up. “See you later, Cheeks.”
Then he was out of the door and she was left dazed, as if she had just been struck by a hurricane.
-
A teary-eyed man stumbled to the other end of the television screen, hugging the other contestants while a panel of sympathetic judges looked on. Eyes glued on the screen, Izuku reached over to grab the largest chip from the snack bowl on the table, only for his hand to be slapped away by Katsuki, who snatched the coveted chip up for himself.
Izuku looked over at him, heart squeezing like a stress ball. Katsuki had a knitted blanket in his lap, drawn up to cover one shoulder, and he was staring at the television as if it was reporting the end of the world. His hair was messy and soft, towel-dried after his shower, and the way his lips hung half-apart in his concentration was so endearing that Izuku would have kissed him if he wasn’t worried that he’d get slapped for interrupting the show.
As it was, he couldn’t resist shuffling in close and wrapping an arm around Katsuki, rubbing his shoulder. To his delight, Katsuki relaxed into his touch, letting Izuku massage the side of his neck.
Then Katsuki pulled away, shifting to the other end of the sofa, and Izuku almost bemoaned his absence before he stuck his feet into Izuku’s lap.
A smile spread across his face, chest swelling with affection as he picked up one of Katsuki’s feet, pressing both his thumbs into the tense ball of his foot. Satisfied, Katsuki turned back to the screen, squirming a little as Izuku rubbed circles into the base of his heel, trying to release the tension. There was nothing he liked more than getting to do nice things for Katsuki, than being allowed to see him all soft and comfortable like he was now.
“I went to your flower shop the other day.”
Izuku stilled halfway through sliding his thumbs up his sensitive arch. “What?”
He kicked his legs just a little, enough to get Izuku to continue massaging him. “I helped her with her garden and those dorky labels.”
The idea of the two of them working together on creating the cute labels he’d seen in Uraraka’s garden was so sweet that it almost made him forget the danger of unleashing Kacchan on his—well, not not- crush . “That sounds nice. You didn’t, um, say anything about me, did you?”
“What do you think?”
He let out a strangled sound. “Kacchan.”
“Oh, shut up. She likes you, too. Get your head out of your ass and ask her out.”
“But…” Izuku was lost for words. “What about you? Us? I don’t—I mean, I—” He took a deep breath. “I don’t want you to be with anyone else, and I know that’s hypocritical so I don’t think it would be fair for me to—”
“I won’t be.” He shifted upright, leaning against the armrest of the sofa. “I’ve told you. I don’t want anyone else. But if you want her, I’ll give it a try.”
“You mean, letting me date her? Or… both of us?”
His lips curved. “You want me to date her, too, nerd?”
Izuku’s cheeks felt warm. “I—I mean, I wouldn’t be opposed to that.”
With a snort, Katsuki drew his legs back and crawled onto Izuku’s lap, settling comfortably on his thighs. Almost a reflex, Izuku rested his hands on his waist, idly stroking the sliver of warm skin exposed where his shirt had ridden up. “You can tell me what you want. I’m not gonna get angry—unless it’s stupid. Just spit it out already.”
Izuku took a deep breath. “I think I’d like to try. What—what you said.”
“Then we’ll try it.” He dipped down, lips brushing against Izuku’s neck. Izuku shuddered, eyes fluttering shut as Katsuki pressed slow, soft kisses over the column of his throat. “Is Hayashi doing well?”
“W-what?” He glanced over at the screen, trying to make out what was happening through his hazy, blurring vision. “I think so.”
“Does it look like he’s gonna win this round?”
“Yeah, probably.”
He hummed a small, satisfied sound and returned to kissing Izuku’s neck, slowly undoing the buttons of his shirt. “You thinking about me now?”
A huff of laughter left his lips as he circled his arms around Katsuki’s waist, palming at the smooth, warm curve of his back. “Yeah, of course.”
His fingers found the drawstring of Izuku’s shorts, loosening them. “Good. Keep your eyes on me.”
He smiled. “Always.”
-
The semantics of gifting flowers to a florist was confusing. Izuku was having a hard time deciding whether it was a sweet gesture based on her interests or the equivalent to cheating on her without ever getting in a relationship. His eventual compromise was buying an artsy box of pastries before heading to the flower shop on the next morning he had off from work.
When he reached the street, he could make out her figure through the large glass windows. She was arranging flowers in a bouquet, tongue poking out between her teeth, eyebrows knitted together. Something about the way she looked in her concentration reminded him of Katsuki—both so dedicated when it came to the things they loved. Izuku steeled himself and pushed the door open.
Uraraka glanced up, and her smile widened. “Iz—Midoriya-san! Good morning. It’s been a while. I was starting to think you figured out how to make Bakugou-san forgive you without buying him flowers.”
He returned the smile, sheepish. “I guess so. And, uh, you can call me Izuku. I mean, I would like that.”
"Oh. Of course. You can call me Ochako, then."
"Sure… Ochako." The name tasted sweet on his tongue, like warm honey. "I wanted to, um, ask you something."
She leaned over the counter, resting her elbows on the green-stained surface. "Go ahead."
"I… I mean, you… I was wondering if—" He took a deep breath, deciding to change tactics. "Kacchan mentioned you guys hung out the other day."
She almost looked surprised. "Yeah, we did. He's… interesting, for sure."
"Yeah. Actually, I was gonna ask…" He lost his nerve again. "Did he say something about me?"
"He did," she said slowly. There was a flicker of intrigue in her gaze now, a careful sort of anticipation. "He said you take relationships seriously."
He gave a weak laugh. "Thanks for sparing me from everything else."
"I can still tell you if you're curious," she teased. "But I think you can make your assumptions."
"I guess so. Kacchan loves interfering," he agreed. "But he's right most of the time, so… it probably works out for the best."
She hummed. "Then are you going to keep dancing around your question or get to it?"
Relief rushed through him. Once he knew they were on the same wavelength, this didn't feel so intimidating anymore. All he had to do was take the leap. "Would you like to go out with me sometime?"
"I would love that," she assured him.
His face relaxed into a smile. It was only then that he remembered the pastry box he was still holding, and he quickly set it on the counter with an unnecessary bow that he would probably still be overthinking tonight. "This is for you."
"You didn't have to bribe me," she joked, undoing the box and peering inside. "These look great. Thank you. Hold on—"
She hurried out from behind the counter and flitted around the shop, gathering up some flowers. Izuku watched her, interested, as she brought her findings back to the counter and began assembling them into a bouquet, deft fingers working quickly. Once the bouquet was satisfying, she wrapped a sparkly green ribbon around the stems and held the bouquet out to Izuku.
"For me?" he said, surprised, as he took it from her.
"Who did you think I was making it for? You can keep it for yourself or give it to Katsuki. I don't mind."
"I want these for myself," he promised, making her smile. "I can keep them in a vase, right?"
"Right. Cut the bottom of the stems diagonally and they'll last a bit longer."
"Great, I'll do that." He could barely keep the excitement out of his voice. "So, are you free tonight?"
"I can be," she said, biting back another smile.
"Can I bring flowers?"
She just laughed. "I think I'm all set."
Sure enough, when he picked her up for their date that evening, he presented her with a clumsily assembled bouquet of wildflowers he had picked, only for her to pull out a gorgeous bouquet in return for him. Still smiling, she gave him a cheek kiss for his troubles, both of them furiously blushing, and they walked inside together.
-
The season finale was finally upon them, and it was a special occasion; Katsuki had prepared his coveted spicy chicken dip, while Izuku laid out a selection of drinks and other snacks. The sofa was ready with blankets and pillows, the living room lamp switched on to create the perfect ambiance.
The doorbell rang, and Izuku jumped up, making a rush for the door. "I'll get it."
He flung it open to reveal Ochako standing in the doorway. She was wearing a pale pink loungewear set, just as Izuku had recommended, armed with a large cloth bag.
"I brought cookies," she announced, holding up the bag. "And also milk tea. My roommate Momo makes it to go with cookies and it's amazing so I brought a thermos."
"Awesome." Izuku gave her a quick peck, then stepped aside to allow her inside. The set of house slippers she usually used at their place was by the door already, so she kicked off her shoes and put on the slippers instead.
"You're late," Katsuki declared, looking over his shoulder from where he was still on the sofa. "It's about to start. Stupid Hayashi messed up last round, so this time, we're rooting for Tsunoda."
"Good luck to him," Ochako said, plonking herself down on the sofa. "Oh, nice! Is this your famous dip?"
"The one and only," Katsuki said proudly as Izuku squeezed in between them, grabbing a blanket to cover all three of them. "Quiet—it's starting."
Izuku had been going out with Ochako for almost a month now—just a bit longer than her and Katsuki, since she had managed to wrangle him into going on a date with her soon afterwards. He never thought he would have room in his heart for two people he cared about so much, but it turned out to be so much easier than he ever imagined.
Katsuki's head resting on his shoulder, Ochako's thigh pressed against his on the other side; he could get used to this. It was hard to think of anything that could ruin the moment.
Tsunoda fumbled the win. Izuku seriously reconsidered his stance on watching baking shows when he had to deal with two tantrums this time.