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Whoever let halfie put on lip gloss owes Katsuki a fuckin’—life insurance policy, or some shit. Because now not only is Katsuki kissing him—with tongue, ‘cause he doesn’t half-ass the important stuff—in front of eighteen of their shared closest friends, but he also gets to witness Shouto pull away, mouth shiny with more than just glitter now that Katsuki got his hands on him, and blink once before saying, “Oh, that was nice, thank you.”
Thank you. Fucking—thank you. Like Katsuki just finished bagging his groceries for him. “You always thank people for kissing you, pretty boy?” he asks. “Or are you gonna be real nice and obedient for me?”
Shouto shrugs. “I was under the impression that you liked having your efforts noticed,” he says, his soft cheeks tinged pink. “And that was some—ah, stellar effort on your part.”
Katsuki licks his teeth. Can’t help it, really. He’s always had a thing for Shouto. If, you know, had a thing can be reasonably translated to mean wanted to mate him so bad he popped a knot just because Shouto touched his arm once. Has always thought that maybe, if he got his life in order, the first thing he’d do was knock on Shouto’s door and ask him if he wanted to go get soba. (And you know, maybe do that for the rest of their lives. Spend the quiet moments hand in hand. Together.)
“Yeah?” he asks.
Shouto nods. “Yeah,” he says. And then—and then he pulls away just barely, just enough to push the collar of his knitted turtleneck down and bare his neck expectantly. His—his mating gland. Holy—
Omegas don’t do that shit. Not unless they want you enough to be damn sure of it. Damn sure that you want them back, too, but that’s—well, that’s fucking obvious already.
“What are you doing?” Katsuki asks. He doesn’t—he does not—squeak. Got it? Even if he is a little monumentally fucking overwhelmed by the thought that all it took to get his wildest dreams to turn into tangible reality was kissing one pretty boy under the mistletoe that Round Face seems to have deliberately infested her and Deku’s new apartment with. He’ll admit that much. Because he’s no longer seventeen and waking up panting on the brink of a rut thinking Shouto, Shouto, Shouto.
Didn’t even call the pretty bastard by his first name, back then. Too scared of I love you, sweetheart spilling out instead. A ravenous truth. Because that’s all it boils down to, isn’t it? Hunger. Wanting. Synonyms for the same thing. For looking at Shouto and thinking mine, mine, mine without being brave enough to open his mouth and ask if Shouto wouldn’t mind.
“I think I’d like to get mated,” says Shouto. “If it’s with you.”
Katsuki doesn’t process his own actions in any meaningful capacity before he’s pulling Shouto in by the back of his neck and opening his mouth so his canines fit perfectly into the soft curve where Shouto is meant to be—fuck. Where he wants Katsuki to bite him so that it takes, so the nobody else ever gets to have him the way Katsuki will.
That’s—
“Um,” Mina pipes up. “Maybe get a bed for that?”
Katsuki freezes. Shouto’s skin is warm, and he smells like spring flowers, and their friends are all silently watching like fucking voyeurs.
Whether that’s because they’re all weirdly invested in each other’s long-term happiness or just ‘cause Katsuki’s an idiot who’s been circling Shouto and yanking on his pigtails since the first day they met is—well. Katsuki has a pretty good idea. But Shouto’s more important right now. And pulling away to primly wipe his mouth when the alternative is keeping Shouto forever, is getting to have him pliant and warm under Katsuki just as soon as they make it out of here, just as soon as Katsuki gets him alone, is—
Fat fucking chance, honestly.
So. Katsuki bites him. Not hard enough to bleed. Not hard enough for it to take. He does want to make that bit good for Shouto, wants to take care of his omega, but he also—he knows Shouto. And he doesn’t want any empty space between their bodies or anything else to fill his pretty little head with stupid, baseless ideas of not being wanted. Of Katsuki not wanting him. Tch. Like he’s thought about anything besides Shouto since it first occurred to him what Shouto being an omega meant. Besides, you know, the Obvious Revelation that having a warm place for Katsuki to put his knot into was at seventeen.
When Katsuki finally pulls away, Shouto is smiling, just barely. Looks so soft and smells so good that for a feeble moment Katsuki reconsiders his firm conviction to have their proper mating a private affair instead of a public show for eighteen other people.
“Phew,” says the insomniac bastard. “For a sec there, I thought we’d need a hose.”
Katsuki growls. “Fuck off,” he says, pulling Shouto closer by his dainty waist. “You probably knowingly aided and abetted this—this invasive plant infestation.”
Hitoshi shrugs. “Got you to finally kiss him, didn’t it?”
And—
Great, that’s just—fucking awesome. So they were all in on it like tiny, meddling gremlins. Katsuki’s about to voice his detailed and uncensored thoughts on that, when—
Shouto tugs on his sleeve. “Katsuki,” he says, still expectant, now vaguely pouty. Cute bastard. The audacity. “Shouldn’t you finish the job?”
Finish the job. Right. Just gotta take Shouto home and bite him and watch him take the swell of a knot (for tradition’s sake, not just because Katsuki really, really wants to) and bite him and then—and then. What? They live happily ever after like a sparkly high budget Hollywood movie?
“You really wanna?” Katsuki asks. He feels seventeen again. Even if it wasn’t that long ago, he likes to think hero work has helped him grow up. Likes to think his heart won’t beat out of his chest just because Shouto’s mouth is red and plump and currently pursed because he wants Katsuki to take care of him for the rest of their lives.
Damn.
That—sounds like a pretty good happily ever after, actually. Just the one Katsuki would want for himself if he got to pick one out. And—Shouto is letting him, isn’t he? Right now, he’s letting Katsuki have everything.
Shouto takes his hand, laces their fingers together firmly. “Yes,” he says. “I really want you, alpha.”
“You’re gonna kill me,” Katsuki says. “Fucking hell, princess.”
Apparently taking this very seriously, most likely as a short-term goal to accomplish instead of something to avoid, Shouto leans in to peck his cheek. “Not before you bite me,” he says, and that settles it. He’s Actively Trying to kill Katsuki.
“Maybe—maybe you should take him home, bro,” Eijirou says. “That would be very manly.”
“Shut up,” Katsuki hisses. Then, to Shouto—, “You wanna go home, sweetheart?”
Shouto nods.
Round Face fuckin’ jumps for joy. “See?” she’s saying to Deku. “I told you it would work out.”
Katsuki obviously doesn’t need charity work from his friends and their chronic lack of personal boundaries, but—getting to take Shouto home isn’t so bad, honestly. Or, you know, bad at all. So he can let this one slide.
(Because—
Shouto laughs when Katsuki picks him up into a princess carry the second they make it out of the building, and that’s a pretty nice way to start the new year. Especially when Shouto takes Katsuki’s face into his hands like that to slot their mouths together again, and Katsuki almost trips on nothing and sends them both tumbling into the snow.
He doesn’t, though. And that’s—good. It’s really, really good. Of course it is. It means he gets to kiss his omega some more.)