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“Izu, you need to stop leaving your fucking shoes in front of the door!” Katsuki yelled. He’d just narrowly avoided his nose making contact with the wall, since he’d tripped over one of Izuku’s sneakers. He’d dropped one of the grocery bags and the other had almost tipped over where he’d put it down. He heard rustling from around the corner, and he stood there seething as Izuku came into the small hallway.
“I didn’t- Oh.” He flashed him an apologetic smile and ran over to pick up his shoes, lining them up where they belonged . He also picked up the few apples that had rolled out of the bag. Katsuki took his shoes off slowly and made a show of neatly putting them away. As Izuku turned, Katsuki stuck his foot out and tripped him, causing him to fall sideways into the coats that were hanging up on the wall.
“Ow, what the hell?” Izuku asked. He was half-laying on the floor, tangled up in their winter jackets. It was just starting to get colder, and Izuku was constantly complaining about it. Katsuki was too, but internally, so it was way less annoying. Izuku picked up a glove that had been stuffed in one of the jacket pockets and chucked it towards Katsuki’s face.
“Too slow,” Katsuki said, snatching it out of the air. “Just put your damn shoes where they belong next time and maybe I won’t have to beat your ass.” He extended his hand out in pity, hauling Izuku and the coats upward. He left Izuku in the hallway to re-hang them and he went to the kitchen table to unload the groceries.
“Did you get anything good?” Izuku asked.
“I got everything on the list.”
“So, no?”
“Did you not put anything good on the list?”
“I mean, I was hoping for a treat.”
“What are you, a dog?”
“No, but I could have been in a past life.”
“Just make yourself useful,” Katsuki said, gesturing to the bag he’d yet to unpack. They finished putting away the groceries in silence, the only sound being the cabinets and the fridge opening and closing. It was far from an awkward silence, though. Knowing each other for so long brings a sense of comfort and safety you can’t get anywhere else.
Katsuki likes routines. He likes everything to happen at relatively the same time, on the same day, every single time. Izuku is a hot mess, from Katsuki’s point of view, anyway. Sure, Katsuki may forget to go to the store once in a while, but Izuku completely abandons any sense of organization. He respects Katsuki’s drawer system, but Izuku’s dresser makes Katsuki want to throw up. He keeps socks and shirts in the same fucking drawer. Underwear has its own dedicated drawer, and he keeps pants and tank tops in another. Katsuki has a separate drawer for everything, which is how it should be.
“You put the bread on the cereal shelf,” Katsuki huffed, moving the loaf to the correct location once he noticed. Izuku just shrugged, opening a bag of crackers and tossing a few in his mouth.
“They’re both carbs.”
“But it’s cereal and bread ,” Katsuki said. “That’s like putting fruits and vegetables in the same place in the fridge.” Izuku no longer does that, because Katsuki always fixes it.
“Alright,” Izuku said, resuming his snacking.
Katsuki is not uptight. He’s organized.
He still felt dirty and gross from just getting off work, so he made his way into his bathroom to clean up. His rows of products sat neatly on the counter, just how he liked them. He grabbed a headband that was sitting next to the sink to push his hair back.
He quickly washed his hands before even thinking about touching his face. Then he splashed his face with water, immediately refreshed by the cold. It always calmed him down, without fail. He grabbed his cleanser, lathering it between his hands and massaging it into his face. Then toner, and then moisturizer. He brushed his teeth quickly and rinsed out his mouth with bubblegum mouthwash. He’s always hated mint, it was invented by the fucking devil.
He looked at himself in the mirror, surprisingly happy with what he saw.
There was a tentative knock on the door, which was still wide open.
“Kacchan?” Izuku asked.
“What?” Izuku laughed suddenly, and a blush formed across his cheeks. He pointed towards his forehead.
“Cute headband,” he said.
“Fuck off.”
“I’m serious!”
“Fuck off.” Izuku shook his head, still giggling to himself.
“Why are you here again?” Katsuki asked.
“I just wanted to let you know that I did laundry this morning since I don’t know if I’m going to have time to do it tomorrow,” he said, leaning against the doorframe. “I have a project due Monday, and I’ve barely started it.”
“Okay,” Katsuki said. “But you have to let me borrow that one hoodie that has daisies on the front of it next weekend.” If you compared Izuku and a picture of a tomato, they would look the same due to how red he was.
“Why?” he squeaked.
“Because it’s the same brand as the hoodie I always wear on Saturdays,” he said. “If you did laundry today, it won’t be clean for next weekend, so I need yours.”
“Sure Kacchan, take whatever you want,” Izuku said. “Oh, and I’m ready to watch an episode when you are.” An episode of their Saturday night show, that is. They’re always watching one of those cheesy reality TV shows, and it never fails to get them hooked.
“Yeah, whatever, I’ll be right out,” Katsuki grumbled, refocusing his attention on finishing his routine. Izuku left the bathroom quietly, probably going to claim his spot on the couch.
He quickly wiped down the sink to get rid of his spit, and then he joined Izuku in the living room, not bothering to take the headband off. He sat on the couch, a little bit closer to Izuku than normal. In his defense, he was stressed, and Izuku was good at making him relax. Not in a weird way.
“Are you ready?” Izuku asked. He leaned forward and picked up a mug off the coffee table, handing it to Katsuki. It was chamomile tea. He took a sip and put it back on the table. It was still very hot.
“I’ve been ready, just waiting on you,” he said teasingly. He grabbed the blanket hanging off the back of the couch and wrapped it around himself, letting the warmth release the tension in his muscles.
“Let me get some of that,” Izuku complained. He came even closer, tucking himself beneath the blanket that was definitely not made for two people.
Katsuki didn’t acknowledge the second blanket that lay discarded on the arm of the couch. This was better.