Work Text:
When the doorbell rings, Katsuki still hasn’t taken his hero costume boots off. His shift ran long because some idiot just had to try and blow up the local children’s hospital. So now he’s tired and cranky too, besides generally disappointed with the state of the world.
And—
No one shows up to his place unless it’s for work, anyway. It’s gotta be Deku with some report he forgot to file or something.
So, when Katsuki opens the door, he’s already yelling, “Oi, shitty nerd,” once he realizes that he’s not, in fact, looking down at Izuku’s messy curls. No—instead he’s looking straight ahead at the prettiest boy he’s ever seen.
“Um,” says the boy. The boy who is currently holding a piece of paper out for Katsuki and—and also a cat? An orange cat that looks very happy to be held but seems to be—glaring? Do dumb furballs know how to fucking glare? Because this one sure seems to be trying its very best to practice with Katsuki. “I have a delivery for you.”
Katsuki glances at the paper. “A delivery?” he says. “What’s the cat for?”
“Oh,” the boy says, almost like the cat currently trying to lick his fingers slipped his mind. “We give the people they’re named after the option to adopt them—and change the name, for obvious reasons—when we deliver the neutering certificate.”
“Neutering certificate?” Katsuki repeats uselessly, because for some damn reason it’s the part of the sentence that makes the most sense.
Wordlessly, the boy hands over the paper he’s holding. Katsuki opens the envelope and pulls out a red card which reads, in all caps: SHOULD HAVE CUT YOURS OFF TOO.
Katsuki must look appropriately surprised, because the boy says, biting the inside of his cheek like he’s trying his very best to stifle a smile, “We let the, ah, person paying for this specific service customize the contents of the message.”
Katsuki feels a bad headache coming on. “And what service are talking about here?” he asks. “You didn’t say, kid.”
The boy’s cheeks puff out when he lets out an affronted breath. He does look like a kid, with those soft, round cheeks and how his hair is grown out enough for the ends to curl gently over his cheekbones. No way in hell he’s older than twenty.
“Well, uh,” he says, crossing his arms over his chest. “I work part-time for a shelter that rescues feral street cats. Obviously, we need to take care of their reproductive health. Hatsume-san thought that this would be a good way to bring in some extra money.”
“By threatening people with genital harm?” Katsuki asks. He wants to laugh, a little bit.
It does work in finally making the pretty boy standing in front of him crack out a smile, though. And that, for reasons Katsuki would rather not examine too closely quite yet, feels like a reward all on its own. “Ah,” he says, “so that’s why Momo was giggling after she wrote the card.”
“Yeah,” says Katsuki. “Apparently some douche wants to cut my dick off.”
“That’s actually not how the neutering process works for male cats, we just remove the testi—”
“Hey,” Katsuki interrupts. “At least tell me who sent this first. Then you can talk about balls as much as you like.”
The pretty boy’s face goes red, red, red. He tucks a strand of grown-out hair behind his ear. When he speaks, his voice is calm, though. Perfectly even. “Whoever last came into contact with yours, I’d assume?”
Katsuki cackles. “Fair,” he says. Then, for reasons beyond his own feeble mortal comprehension—maybe the long shift, maybe that he’s tired as hell and this is the prettiest boy Katsuki has ever laid eyes on in the twenty-seven years he’s spent on earth, maybe just due to cosmic forces greater than him—he feels the need to tack on, “Never got any complaints in person, though.”
Pretty boy arches a single, neatly-trimmed eyebrow at him. “About your dick?”
Katsuki licks his lips. To his own detriment, he’s never been the kind of person to back down. “Yeah,” he says. “About my dick, pretty boy.”
“Pretty boy…?”
Katsuki shrugs. “Didn’t tell me your name, did you?”
“It’s Shouto,” says the pretty boy in question. “My name’s Shouto.”
“Shouto,” Katsuki repeats. “That’s good to know.”
For a second, in the brief quiet that follows, Katsuki gets the stupid urge to reach out and touch and—what, tuck Shouto’s hair behind his ear and try for the kind of cheesy flirting he never bothered with when he was Shouto’s age? God, that’s—
Then, the cat meows. Loudly. Like being ignored doesn’t sit well with it at all.
And Shouto—
Shouto scratches it under the chin, and says, “Are you going to keep Katsuki?”
Katsuki glances back down at the card still in his hand. Katsuki, it reads, right next to name. Which is just—
“Some idiot paid money to name a cat after me and cut its balls off?”
Shouto nods. “Yes,” he says. “It actually turned out to be a pretty popular service. I’ve been doing these deliveries all month. A few of them kept the cats, too.”
Yeah, and it had nothing at all to do with Shouto’s pretty face and those captivating wide eyes. Right. Sure.
“You can’t be serious,” says Katsuki. “Listen, kid, I’ve had a long day—”
“I’m not a kid,” says Shouto firmly. “I’m twenty-two. And—you look like you could use the company. Maybe a cat will help. You’ll have someone to talk to. They’re very good listeners.”
Someone to talk to? “I’m a nationally ranked pro hero,” Katsuki hisses. “I don’t have time to talk to a damn cat. And I sure as hell don’t need to, what the fuck.”
Shouto blinks. “Oh,” he says, “love and affection, then? Maybe you need more of that? Since you work hard.”
In a string of actions that Katsuki can only contribute to temporary insanity or a severe case of cuteness aggression, he takes the cat from Shouto, puts it down inside his apartment, squishes Shouto’s cheeks, and tells him, “I’ll make you a deal.”
Mercifully, Shouto doesn’t immediately knee him in the groin. “Yes?” he says instead, still sounding not particularly bothered about—well. Anything. Does he just. Get squished by all the people he delivers ball-less cats to? Huh? Is that it? Is Katsuki not particularly special in his desire to squish Shouto and maybe kiss him a little too? Is that what the universe is trying to teach him by delivering a pretty boy to his doorstep?
“I’ll keep the cat,” Katsuki says. “On one condition.”
“Which is?” Shouto asks, but he looks like he might have a pretty good idea. Like he might even agree to it if Katsuki’s just a little bit lucky.
“Let me take you out to dinner,” Katsuki tells him. And then immediately realizes he needs to let go so Shouto can answer uncoerced.
Shouto smiles, tells him, “So I can check for myself and verify you don’t get complaints after? You know, about your d—?”
“Oh my god,” says Katsuki. “Shut up.”
“No,” says Shouto, mouth twitching, “that’s very thorough of you. I might have to agree just to prove I take my job seriously.”
“Just for that?” Katsuki asks. “No other reason at all?”
“Well,” says Shouto delicately. “A cat is a big responsibility. You might need help looking after it.”
Which—
“Yeah?” Katsuki asks. “You gonna help me, pretty boy?”
Shouto nods. “We should pick out a name,” he says. “Considering your track record with those, Dynamight-san, I think my presence is definitely required. As a preventative measure.”
“You little brat,” Katsuki says. “How did you…?”
Shouto shrugs. “See,” he says, “you’ve met my dad a couple of times. Like that hero gala where you accidentally blew up his award. I should thank you for that too.”
“Huh,” says Katsuki. Then, “Guess Endeavor did do something right in his life. Who would have guessed?”
Shouto looks at him. He’s the most beautiful person Katsuki has ever seen, did he mention that yet? “So,” he says. “Did you want some company for dinner now? Besides the cat?”
“You know what,” says Katsuki. “Sure.”
(And if he ends up taking care of more than just a cat, well—
That’s fine, obviously.)