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Izuku giggles, and hides behind the row of lockers.
Today’s the day! The day he’s been waiting for!
It’s Christmas Eve, the day you’re supposed to spend with the person you love most!
And for Izuku…well?
He loves his mother, and he admires All Might.
But neither of them compare to how much he loves Kacchan.
And he knows…he knows…
Kacchan hates holidays. Hates them! More than once he’s told Izuku that they’re just “fucking commerically-driven institions that demand we spend our money in order to promote capitalism.” He’s always complaining about capitalism, Kacchan is, and Izuku thinks that’s a little odd, since his parents are fashion designers and aren’t they kind of dependent upon trends and commerce for their work?
And without capitalism, wouldn’t Kacchan be living in a different house, in a different life?
Whatever. Izuku can’t get caught up in a debate about the benefits and perils of capitalism with himself right now. He has other things to do, better things!
Like wait for Kacchan to get out of his extra training session with Cementoss and Ectoplasm.
He’s been planning this for weeks. Ever since Kacchan told him, “I don’t do Christmas, Nerd,” Izuku has been determined to show Kacchan that he can, in fact, do Christmas…and love it!
It took a lot of effort. Coordinating with the teachers had been one thing, but convincing Hatsume-san to help him break into Kacchan’s locker had been on another level. He had to promise to model her ‘babies’ at the 1-H Support Class festival at the end of the year, and she’s currently insisting on almost daily fittings, which…in between his internship, and his classes, and extra training with All Might and his classmates…
A door slams, and Izuku jumps. “Next time, don’t fucking make so many extras, sensei!” Kacchan shouts. “You’re not training me to find the right Ectoplasm! You’re training me to blast the shit out of the extras!”
Ectoplasm says something, but Izuku can’t hear what their teacher says. Instead, Kacchan laughs, says, “Yeah, yeah, same time next week, sensei, thanks for today” and heavy footsteps sound in Izuku’s direction.
This is it! This is it! The moment he’s been waiting for!
Izuku can’t help but peek around the corner. He sees Kacchan stomping down the corridor; his boots are loud, and his handsome brow is furrowed, as if he’s deep in thought. Izuku fights back a giggle. It’s finally here! He’s gonna surprise him! He’s gonna…
“Goddamn stupid sensei thinking I know who he is when that’s literally his fucking quirk ,” Kacchan mutters. Izuku can hear his footsteps stop; he’s so close to Izuku now, he must be in front of his locker! “Next time,” Kacchan says, to no one but himself apparently, “he should just fuckin’ say, ‘Oh, hey, Bakugō, you’ve also got to avoid blasting the shit out of the real me’ and I’d fucking get it. I’m not fuckin’ Pikachu, after all.” Kacchan wrenches his locker door open.
There’s a long moment of silence—it’s so long, maybe too long, and Izuku realizes he’s holding his breath because Kacchan has seen, he must have seen , and what does he think? He’s not saying anything! Does he like it? Is he mad? Furious? Is Izuku gonna get blasted into next week? Is he…
“Oi!” Kacchan says loudly then, and Izuku claps his hand over his mouth to avoid squeaking. “Nerd! I know you’re fuckin’ here. Come out from wherever you’re fuckin’ hidin’. I know you’re here!”
Izuku swallows. Oh, oh gods. Kacchan knows. He knows! He knows and he sounds mad, he sounds so mad , and…
“Izuku!” Kacchan’s shouting now, and shit Izuku’s in trouble!
“Ahhh…heyyyy Kacchan.” Izuku steps out from behind the row of lockers where he has been hiding. Kacchan’s standing in front of their row of lockers; his locker’s open, and he looks…
Wait. Wait.
Kacchan’s red, but is it because he’s mad?
His eyes snap to Izuku’s, but they’re not flashing in anger, like Izuku needs to get ready to use Air Force to repel a particularly pissed-off blast. Instead, they’re wide and staring, and…
Oh.
Kacchan’s eyes dart away; he runs a hand through his hair, and he shifts his position.
Nervous?
Is…
Is Kacchan nervous?
“Hey.” He runs his hand through his hair again. “I knew you had to be here somewhere.”
“Uhhh, yeah!” Izuku says, much too brightly. He takes one step forward, then another. “How—how did you know?”
Kacchan jerks a thumb towards his locker, then jams his hand in his pocket. “Thought I told you I don’t do Christmas, Nerd,” he says instead.
“I—I know,” Izuku replies softly. He feels his heart start to sink. Maybe he was wrong after all. Maybe it wasn’t a good idea to do this. Maybe…
To Izuku’s surprise, Kacchan laughs. “You never fucking listen, you do?” he says, but there’s no heat in his voice. Instead, it’s…warm, affectionate, and fills Izuku with a heat that he’s never really known before, except for when he’s in Kacchan’s presence, or when someone disses Kacchan, or when Kacchan’s hurt, or…
Izuku…doesn’t know what to say. Why does Kacchan sound so…fond?
“I—guess I don’t?” Izuku answers, more unsure of that now, suddenly, than anything else in the world.
“Yeah, well…” Kacchan takes the present out of his locker. It’s a beautifully wrapped box; Izuku spent hours making it just so, because he’s knows what a perfectionist Kacchan is, and he figures that if Kacchan’s gonna accept Izuku’s gift, it’s got to be perfect.
And it is. It is. But…
“I…gotta admit, ‘Zuku,” Kacchan continues after a moment. “I…I…” He bangs on Izuku’s locker, which is the one right above his own. “Open your own damn locker, Nerd.”
“What?” Izuku blinks, stares at Kacchan. What on earth…
“You gonna make me fuckin’ say it again?” Kacchan’s definitely red now, and it’s definitely not because he’s mad. “Fine.” He huffs. “Izuku,” he says, slowly and clearly and like Izuku has never heard his own name before, “open your own locker. Now.”
“Ahhh, ohhh okay!” Izuku hustles forward; Kacchan steps out of the way, and Izuku launches himself at his locker. He fumbles with the lock; it takes him two times to get the combination right, and finally, he yanks the lock off and opens his locker, where inside, he finds….
“Kacchan.” Izuku’s voice is low. He…he can’t believe…
“Merry Christmas, Nerd.” He can feel Kacchan grinning at him, but Izuku can’t pay attention to that right now; he can’t, not when inside his locker is…
“You just gonna stare at it all day?” Kacchan teases him. “Or you wanna see what’s in it?”
Izuku gapes. “You—you got me something,” he says, his voice still low, wondering. He dares to look up at Kacchan, and yup, he’s definitely grinning.
“I did.” Kacchan clutches his own gift.
“You—you don’t do Christmas!” Izuku accuses, pointing a finger at Kacchan.
“I don’t.” Kacchan admits this readily. “But for you, I’ll make an exception.”
Izuku feels tears come to his eyes. “Kacchan,” he murmurs, “you didn’t have to…”
With his free hand, Kacchan reaches out and grabs Izuku’s wrist. “Yeah, I did,” he says, his voice quieter and gentler than Izuku has ever heard. “I know it means a lot to you, and, well…fuck.” He laughs. “If it means a lot to you, I guess it’s gotta mean a lot to me too, right?”
Izuku can’t believe his ears. Kacchan…bought him a gift? Kacchan…said Christmas means something to him? Kacchan…
Laughs again. “Surprise,” he says, and shrugs. “Open your gift, ‘Zuku.”
Kacchan’s still got him by the wrist. Izuku doesn’t want him to let go. His eyes drop to where they’re connected; Kacchan’s do, too, and he frowns.
“Oh,” he says, going to let go of Izuku, “sorry…”
“Don’t!” Izuku exclaims, and Kacchan snaps back up to meet Izuku’s gaze. Izuku feels all kinds of hot. “I—I mean,” he adds, trying to correct himself, “I—I just—you’re—”
“I’m what.” There’s a heat now to Kacchan’s tone that Iuzku has, again, never heard, one that he likes, more than he cares to admit.
“You—you’re—”
“What.” Kacchan takes a step closer; Izuku watches, breathless, as he moistens his lips. They’re shiny, so shiny, and Izuku just wants to…
“You.” Izuku can barely get the word you. “You’re—touching me.”
“I am.” Katsuki’s gaze is fire.
“And…and I…” Fuck, he can’t find the words. Fuck, now he sounds like Kacchan! Fuck!
“And you’re what?” Kacchan’s tone is teasing, but there’s no sign of mirth on his face.
“And…and I’m…” He sees Katsuki’s eyes, flashing, drop to his own lips, and Izuku has a fleeting moment of terror, before a wave of heat, of want, explodes inside him.
“Oh, fuck it,” Izuku mutters, and yanks his own wrist towards him, pulling Kacchan along, and crashing their mouths together.
It’s not a great first kiss, as far as the perfection of the movement of lips on lips go, but what Kacchan and Izuku lose in choreography, they make up for in passion. Kacchan groans , and grabs Izuku by the waist; Izuku feels the corners of his own gift poking his back, but when Kacchan slides his tongue between his lips, he literally does not care.
They’re moving on each other; there’s a hunger there, one that’s been suppressed and hidden for years in teasing and competing and in all the charged moments they’ve had: in the classroom, on the battlefield, at 2am when Kacchan shows up at Izuku’s room, shell-shocked because he’s dreamed about dying again. Kacchan kisses like he lives: ferociously, commandingly, and Izuku finds himself melting under the force of Kacchan’s kiss.
He hits their lockers; Kacchan shoves the gift back into his own locker, and his hand now grips the back of Izuku’s shirt. There’s a thigh slid between his legs, and oh, that’s new and kind of amazing?
Izuku’s hands clutch wildly: at Kacchan’s shoulders, at his biceps. They curl into his hair, which is so soft, despite the spikes. Kacchan seems to like that, because he grinds into Izuku, and their kiss deepens further, and Izuku…
Before he can finish the thought, Kacchan’s pulling away. His eyes are slightly glassy, but he smirks as he stares at Izuku, who’s sure that he’s a wreck. The heat in Kacchan’s eyes, however, keeps the fire that started in Izuku’s belly burning, spreading, heating more and more.
Kacchan wipes at his mouth. “There’s your real Christmas present, ‘Zuku,” he grins, and Izuku can feel the warmth flooding his face. “Now,” he adds, “how about your open your present, and then we get the fuck out of here?” His smirk is lethal and Izuku’s about to faint. “I wanna finish what we started.”
Izuku’s heart squeezes; he can hardly believe that Kacchan’s here, that he bought Izuku a Christmas gift, that he kissed Izuku. He can hardly believe that any of this is real, but then, Kacchan reaches out, takes Izuku’s hand, and squeezes it, deep and slow.
“Yeah,” he says softly, like he knows what Izuku’s thinking. (He always knows.) “I’m here, and yeah, it’s…” He gives a shy grin, and wow , Izuku didn’t think Kacchan could be any more handsome, but here we are. With his free hand, he reaches into Izuku’s locker, and pulls out the gift bag. “Go ahead,” he says, “open it.”
“Oh!” Izuku’s eyes go wide, and he tugs away from Kacchan’s hand. “But only if you open yours, okay?” He gets Kacchan’s gift again and holds it out; there’s a moment where their hands brush, as they trade gifts, and Izuku warms again at the sight of a faint blush on Kacchan’s face.
“Same time?” Kacchan says.
“Y—yeah,” Izuku says.
“Then…now!”
They both tear into their gifts; Izuku pulls out a tightly wrapped…something…while Kacchan, much more meticulously, unties the ribbon and then undoes the paper. “What?” he snaps. “It’s nice paper. I’m gonna save it for later.”
Izuku can’t help but giggle. How Kacchan of him.
Izuku’s struggling to get the tissue paper unwrapped; Kacchan has taped it, really tight, and Izuku’s working his fingers under the tape, trying to get it free.
“Izuku,” Kacchan says then, and Izuku looks up to see that he’s unwrapped his gift: a rare All Might Bronze Age card, encased in glass and framed. It took Izuku weeks to find, but he knows Kacchan has always wanted this card, has always been saving his money for it.
“You like it?” Izuku asks, grinning.
“Yeah.” Kacchan leans forward and kisses him, and Izuku goes all tingly, from his head to his feet. “I fuckin’ love it.”
“I’m glad,” Izuku replies, and Kacchan nods at Izuku’s hands. “Oh!” he says, remembering he’s still got a gift to open. He decides, fuck it, he’s just gonna tear the paper, and when he does…
“The All Might Silver Age first edition poseable figure!” Izuku breathes, turning the box over and over in his hands. It’s one that he’s also always wanted, but his mother said he couldn’t have… First, he was too young; then, he was too old for figures; then, he was going to high school; and now, he’s going to graduate.
All valid reasons from his mother, but from Kacchan…
“Thank you,” he says, holding the gift close to his chest. “Kacchan, how did you know? How could you have…”
“Because you only talk about all the fucking time,” Kacchan answers, that fond smile on his face again. “My first Christmas gift for you had to be something pretty special.”
“Your—your first?” Izuku asks, tentatively, quietly. Hope soars in his chest that this isn’t just a one-off, a one-time thing, that Kacchan isn’t trying to absolve himself of some sin that he thinks he committed when he can’t and he wouldn’t, because he’s Kacchan, he’s Bakugō Katsuki, and he’s perfect.
“Yeah.” Kacchan smirks. He puts his card back in its box and sets it on the bench beside them, then takes Izuku’s hand again, pulling him close. “First has to be best, right?”
Izuku thinks immediately of their kiss. “Yeah,” he agrees, and pulls Kacchan close for another soft, chaste kiss. “First is the best. Although…”
He kisses Kacchan again. “The second, third, and fourth aren’t so bad, either.”
Kacchan laughs. “Come on, you shitty, adorable nerd,” he says, “you and I got a date with some fried chicken tonight, okay?”
Izuku’s eyes light up. “Really?” he exclaims. His mother never lets him have fried chicken on Christmas Eve! “You know my mom…”
“I know.” Kacchan looks gleeful. “Told ya—first gift, first kiss, first date…
“All the best.”
Izuku bounces with excitement, and as he and Kacchan head back to the dorms for the evening, he can’t help but think…
Second, third, fourth, fifth? All good in their own way.
But first? Well… after all!
Izuku knows that firsts mean more to come after.
Artwork by kalcia