Archive of Our Own

1. The bed

The day they bought the bed, Eijiro conceded that yes, in retrospect, trying to carry a bed big enough to fit the three of them into the elevator and all the way up to their apartment wasn't the brightest idea, but it had seemed like a perfectly reasonable plan at the time. It hadn't been an unreasonable purchase either, even if his bank account might have begged to differ.

Purchasing the bed alone was a feat. Shoto had been raised with tatami floors and tradition built into the very foundation of his home. Katsuki, for as long as he could remember, had had a bed of his own. It was just him, he never had anyone else to share his space with, his bed, even as a little child padding his way to his parents' room after a nightmare—so unlike Eijiro himself, who had grown up cuddling up next to the first family member he could find, comforted by their presence and warmth beside him.

The only thing they had agreed on was that the bed needed to be big enough for the three of them, no sleeping in separate rooms. They'd eventually settled on a Queen-sized, memory foam mattress after weeks of bickering and an incident involving burnt pillows. They'd bought a sturdy, oak frame, and the best sheets they could afford, which was to say, the only sheets they could afford after their splurge, a simple set of navy blue cotton with white polka dots. The life of a UA graduate was an unglamorous one.

But it was finally done, the centerpiece of their bedroom. A bed capable of comfortably holding them, all three of them, together. Their first night sleeping in the new bed was wonderful. Eijiro had woken up in the middle of the night, his face buried in Katsuki's chest while Shoto hugged him from behind. Trapped between the two bodies, Eijiro had drifted back to sleep with a smile on his face.

The thing no one talked about when it came to debuting as a pro hero, was that all the stuff they sold you during school was a load of crap.

There was no glory, no honor. No fame and no fortune. What there was, was a lot of paperwork.

Eijiro, for his part, had expected a few of the more mundane things that came with being a hero, like the endless amounts of reports he had to fill out, the paperwork, the PR, and all that. For the most part he actually welcomed it. When you faced up against the self-proclaimed Demon King at sixteen, you got a newfound appreciation for all the less exciting, but equally important aspects of the job.

What he had failed to realize was just how much of his day would be consumed by his job.

He'd heard once that nurses could have shifts of up to 16-hours straight of non-stop work. He thought that sounded pretty extreme. Now, whenever he ended up in the hospital, Eijiro raised his fist in solidarity to the overworked nurses, while Katsuki would kiss his bruised knuckles and Shoto would bring him some ice chips.

They'd had to learn how to work with each other's schedules. Shoto's family name and good looks meant his shifts were usually at the prime time slot, so that his pretty face would end up on the news and he'd trend on Twitter just in time for the evening rush. But his popularity meant he was dragged across the prefecture, everyone clamoring for a glimpse at the dual powered pro hero of their dreams.

Most of those patrols were when Eijiro was at home. Sometimes Katsuki would be there too, a rare break from his breakneck speed rise to the top, where the agency had decided he needed to be on the ground as often as possible.

That meant they were together, but not together. And the same was true for when Shoto was the one home, be it with one of them or on his own.

They did what they could. A text to know who was home, when, and what they were doing. Dinner plans, movie nights. Very rarely a night at the club, sometimes a nice dinner at their favorite restaurant. Most of the time huddled up in bed, watching fight footage with bated breath, because one of them was out there. Counting and waiting the seconds until the news reported a villain's arrest and they could let out a sigh of relief, and sometimes a small cheer, before kissing each other, and hope all three could celebrate together soon. But they made it work.

The words danced on his screen as Eijiro tried, for the third time, to read the report. For the last hour, he'd only gotten as far as two paragraphs in before his vision blurred and he was forced to start his sisyphean task all over again.

He pinched the bridge of his nose, doing the breathing exercises Shoto had taught them. Breathe in for four, hold for seven, exhale for eight. He thought of Shoto's hands on his shoulders, guiding him, his voice a soothing anchor.

"You're working too hard, Eijiro."

He wasn't sure how Shoto was always able to tell when one of them was getting stressed. Katsuki, surprisingly enough, was the hardest to read, his temper and general bad mood usually enough to hide anything deeper. Eijiro didn't like hiding things, least of all from the ones he loved, but he'd developed a few habits. A hand running through his hair, his foot bouncing.

Shoto always noticed. He would approach quietly, place his hand on Eijiro's shoulder and squeeze, rub the knots of tension on his back.

"Come on, let's go take a walk," he'd say. And he would, Eijiro would leave whatever he was doing behind, and follow Shoto's lead.

The last time they'd gone out – in general – was three weeks ago, dragging their sore bodies out of bed because there was very little groceries left in the house and Katsuki refused to let it continue like that. The stolen kisses in the produce aisle, and childhood snacks bought specifically because Shoto had never tried them, had been the highlight of the day. They hadn't had a chance to do much beyond a few quick chaste pecks before work since then.

Eijiro sighed and turned back to his screen. His temples throbbed with the telltale signs of an oncoming migraine. He could hear Katsuki's voice in his head: stop getting so close to the screen! Blue light worsens your vision, use the eye-comfort mode! I'm dragging you to my next ophthalmologist appointment and getting you some glasses, Red! Shoto's voice followed, softer, but no less admonishing, telling him he should rest his eyes every now and then.

"How long have you been at it?" Amajiki asked, startling Eijiro from his thoughts.

"Sorry, didn't hear you come in," he said sheepishly, scratching the back of his head.

Amajiki shrugged. "You seemed deep in thought. What are you working on?"

Eijiro's face scrunched up. "It's this report, man," he whined. "I'm so behind. But whenever I try to read it, the words all blur together, and I get a headache. I don't know what's wrong with me. Maybe I need glasses, like Katsuki keeps saying."

Amajiki hummed, taking a seat across from him. "You've been going at it for a while," he said, his tone careful. "Maybe you need a break. Some rest. It can't be healthy, the way you're working."

"I don't have time," Eijiro sighed, his shoulders slumped. "I just need to figure this out and I'll take a break. It's just—"

"Kirishima, you've been at it for hours. It's almost midnight. How long have you been working?"

"I don't know," Eijiro groaned. "I just—I'm falling behind, okay? Everyone is always on my case for not working hard enough and not putting enough effort, but I'm trying, I am."

Amajiki gave him a hard stare, his lips pursed in a thin line. He crossed his arms, his gaze turning sharp, and Eijiro shrank under it. Amajiki had shed his shyer, anxious skin long ago, becoming more confident and outgoing as the years passed. He'd grown into a kind, caring, and incredibly observant mentor, and Eijiro was proud to be able to call him a friend. He also hated that Amajiki knew him well enough to know when Eijiro was being unreasonable with himself.

"You're working yourself into the ground," Amajiki said. "And it's not good for you. I've seen you lately. You're basically shambling around when you're not patrolling. I'll finish the report for you, and you can go home and rest."

"But I—"

He was cut off by a tentacle to the face. "I'm not hearing it. You're worse than Nejire when she started out, I swear. Go, before you pass out on patrol one day and your boyfriends come for my head. You can make it up to me with dinner next time."

There were a lot of things he wanted to say, a lot of things he wanted to point out—like, I can keep going. Or, it's just an extra four hours of work I have to go through. He opened his mouth, but nothing came out. He had the distinct impression that if he protested any further, he would only be met with more tentacles, so instead, he closed his mouth.

"You're the best," Eijiro said, shooting him a wobbly smile. "I'll bring you those cookies you like, the ones Katsuki's mom sent us the other day."

Amajiki grinned, a wide toothy smile. "Don't make me regret my decision."

Eijiro gave him a two-finger salute and a quick "thanks again, man," before bolting out of the building.

The sun had started to set when Eijiro had gotten out of the station, and the sky was a lovely mix of oranges and pinks, the first few stars visible. His stomach rumbled, and he realized he hadn't eaten since the small protein bar he'd had for breakfast, too caught up with work.

He made his way home. The streets were quiet, almost deserted. The weather was getting colder, winter was fast approaching. A small group of children were playing in the street, and a couple was walking down the opposite side, their fingers laced together. A young woman sat on the steps of her home. A cat was curled around her legs, purring as she scratched behind its ear.

Eijiro thought of his boyfriends, their shared bed. The soft duvet, the pillows. Katsuki's arms around him, the warmth of Shoto's body, the steady rhythm of his heart, beating a melody Eijiro knew by heart. He thought of how Katsuki fed the stray cats that roamed around their neighborhood, because it made Shoto happy. Of Shoto's secret sweet tooth, how he would buy himself a bag of cookies and stash it in the back of the pantry, where Katsuki couldn't reach without jumping on the counter, and Eijiro would pretend not to know about it, or notice when the package became emptier faster than it should have.

He was tired. So tired.

When he got home, he toed off his shoes and went straight for bathroom. He stripped off his hero costume and took a quick shower, letting the warm water ease his sore muscles. If the he'd had been their mutual indulgence, the bathroom was all Eijiro's: the rainfall shower head, the rows of body washes and nourishing hair products, the fancy candles Katsuki had scoffed at but still bought him because they had been on sale and Shoto had liked the smell.

By the time he had finished his shower, his stomach was making the most horrible growling sounds. The smell of food hit him as soon as he walked out, and his mouth started to water. He hadn't had a proper home-cooked meal in forever, he thought as he walked into the kitchen. They tended to live off the leftovers Katsuki would leave in the fridge, the ready-made meals, and the occasional take-out.

"Oh, you're home early," Shoto said, his eyes widening. "We were hoping to have dinner ready before you got back."

Eijiro blinked at him, trying to wrap his head around what he was seeing. Katsuki was standing by the stove, a pan in one hand, and the other holding a spoon. His apron was on, which meant the meal was probably serious business. Next to him was Shoto, dutifully cutting up vegetables.

"I didn't... I didn't think either of you were coming home today," Eijiro mumbled, still not entirely sure he was awake.

"Well, we did, so sit down," Katsuki said, waving the spatula around. "It's almost done."

"You're home," Eijiro whispered.

"We are," Shoto confirmed.

Eijiro's throat constricted. He couldn't remember the last time they'd managed to have dinner together, or the last time Katsuki had made something from scratch. But there they were, Shoto in borrowed clothes—always the softest ones, Eijiro had a tendency to keep the worn-down shirts and the sweatpants that had seen better days—and Katsuki, a pair of basketball shorts hanging low on his hips, the apron his mom had bought him as a joke, tied neatly around his waist.

"You're home," he repeated.

Katsuki turned the heat down, setting the pan aside. Shoto wiped his hands on the apron he had draped over his shoulder and crossed the distance between them.

"We're home," he said, pressing his forehead against Eijiro's. "Shoto managed to pull some strings here and there with his dad. And then Amajiki texted us you'd be coming home early. So we made your favorite. We haven't had a real meal in a while, so we figured we could use a nice, relaxing evening."

Shoto crossed the distance between them and kissed the corner of his mouth, the tip of his nose, his cheeks, and his forehead.

It was almost funny, how well they fit, how all of Eijiro's bone-deep exhaustion faded away, how all his worries and fears disappeared the moment they were together. He let out a long breath, sighing against Shoto's lips. He felt Katsuki come up behind him and Eijiro melted into him, his arms coming to circle around him, Katsuki's head resting on his shoulder.

"We've missed you," Katsuki said, pressing a kiss to the side of his neck.

"Missed you too," Eijiro mumbled.

Shoto tilted his head and kissed him again. A slow, gentle thing, his lips warm and soft. Katsuki's breath was hot on his skin, his nose brushing the nape of his neck.

It was almost comical how quickly Eijiro went from exhausted, to a boneless mess of limbs and a puddle of goo in his boyfriends' arms. He swore they had to know how good they made him feel. There was no other explanation for the way Katsuki held him, how he pressed soft kisses against his shoulder, the way Shoto cradled his face in his hands. They knew the electrifying, dizzying effect they had on him, how easily they could make his heart beat faster and his stomach flip.

Eijiro pulled back. "We're not eating," he said, his voice hoarse, a little out of breath. "We're supposed to be having a relaxing, home-cooked meal together, and we're not going to get anywhere if you keep kissing me."

Katsuki's gentle touches became sharp little nips across his shoulders, and Shoto's hands trailed from his face down to his chest, and lower still.

"I dunno," Shoto whispered, a hint of a smile dancing across his lips. "I'm pretty relaxed. How about you, Katsuki?"

"I mean," Katsuki shrugged, his voice a low, dangerous purr, "this is very relaxing. We can always eat later."

Shoto bit down on the crook of his neck, hard enough that Eijiro couldn't hold back a low, broken moan. "You know what? I had a big lunch, and, yeah. I'm not hungry yet. Dinner can wait," he said.

Katsuki's laugh was the same as his kiss: rough and intense and burning. Shoto's hands were all over his body, tracing the shape of his abs, the hard lines of his biceps. Hot and cold worked in tandem, easing his aches, leaving trails of frost and heat in their wake.

They stumbled blindly into their room. The moan that slid past Eijiro's lips was only partly because of the soft, luxurious mattress. Memory foam and firm pillows and a plush, cotton duvet, it was all a decadent luxury, but the feel of the bed was a distant thought in the back of his mind compared to the very present feel of Katsuki and Shoto's bodies pressed tight against him.

They only remembered dinner when the smell of burnt meat filled the apartment. Katsuki ran to the kitchen with the blanket tied around his waist, cursing.

Shoto and Eijiro exchanged a look.

"You know what, let's just order take-out," Eijiro said, flopping back onto the bed. "We can cook tomorrow."

Shoto snorted, and climbed on top of him. "I thought you had work tomorrow."

"I can ask for a few days off," Eijiro said. "Nothing is getting me out of this bed right now."

Shoto hummed. "Good answer."

And then his mouth was on Eijiro's neck, trailing down his chest, and lower still, and the only words Eijiro could manage to utter were "please," and "yes," and then nothing else as Katsuki crawled into bed and kissed him until he forgot his own name.

2. The table

"Why is there a cat on our table?"

Shoto kissed the cat between the ears, the tip of its tail lazily back and forth.

"She made herself at home a few hours ago. I couldn't find it in me to kick her off, especially not with those claws of hers."

Eijiro raised his eyebrow, the corner of his mouth lifting in a half-smile. Shoto's hands were covered in fresh scratches. "You don't say."

"It's a beautiful table," Shoto shrugged. "I didn't want to risk scratching it."

"So you just let the cat do it on her own instead," Eijiro snorted, sitting across from him. The cat didn't even open her eyes, too busy soaking up the sunlight.

The table had a mosaic pattern that resembled a sun, with rays that spread out in waves. Wrought iron legs curled into spirals and twists that resembled the vines of climbing plants, like the kind that Eijiro tended to and by now crawled their way up the walls of their apartment. When the sun shone through the windows, the colors on the glass glittered, creating patterns that looked like a kaleidoscope. The effect was so dazzling they'd spent the better part of their day moving it around until they found the perfect spot, the sunlight hitting the glass just right. The cat certainly seemed to agree with their judgment there.

She purred at Shoto's touch, and Shoto rewarded her with a small scratch behind her ear and kissy noises until she made a dissatisfied sound and smacked his hand away. Spoiled little thing she was, breaking into their home and already declaring herself its queen. She'd fit right in.

"Well, I also didn't want to disturb her," Shoto explained.

"I'm not even gonna bother asking how she got in," Eijiro laughed.

"Probably the window," Shoto replied. "Do you think Katsuki will let her stay here? I might need your help convincing him." Then, as if he'd just noticed something, he added, "you don't mind her being here, do you?"

Eijiro wanted to tell Shoto that it wasn't necessary for them to try to convince Katsuki. He wanted to tell Shoto that they both would do whatever he asked, and Katsuki would just roll his eyes, pretend to put up a fight, and give in in the end. He wanted to tell Shoto they were completely and utterly, and hopelessly, at his mercy and of course, he would have his way, because Eijiro and Katsuki were wrapped around his finger. He could keep the cat, he could get a hundred cats and they'd figure it out as they went.

But he didn't. He didn't tell Shoto, because Eijiro enjoyed those moments of uncertainty, the moments when Shoto would seek their reassurance, their comfort, their support. Moments where he wasn't the perfect, prodigal son, the youngest pro hero with a promising career ahead of him, the one with the most devastating Quirk, and the most striking, dazzling features. Moments where he was simply their Shoto, a man in his twenties, a little lost, a little confused, and a little in love, but no less amazing for it.

Eijiro leaned across the table, letting the cat sniff it. She opened one eye at a time, a golden-orange color that matched her mottled fur, and regarded him carefully. "Hi," he whispered.

"She likes you," Shoto said.

Eijiro hummed. "I've always been good with animals. I had so many cats growing up, you would have thought our house was a pet shelter. My mom hated it."

"I'm sure she secretly loved it."

"Of course she did, but don't tell her I said that. Look, the trick is to let her come to you at her own pace. Cats aren't like dogs in that aspect. They need to get a feel of their environment before doing anything."

The cat licked his hand and started purring again, her head resting on his palm. He scratched behind her ear, and under her chin. She nuzzled his hand, her whiskers tickling him. She had to be two or three years old, at the very least. She was big, and she looked a little dirty. She had a few small scars on her snout, and her left ear was a little crooked, as if it had been chewed on. Her claws were a bit chipped, but sharp, and her fur was matted in some spots, as if she hadn't had a bath in a while.

"I never had cats. There was one around the house when I was younger, but I was never allowed to play with it." Shoto reached out, with his right hand, of course, always careful. The cat curiously sniffed his hand, and licked it once, twice. "My father believed a pet that served no purpose was a waste of time. So we had dogs instead, one for each of us. Purebred Kishu Inus, specially bred and trained to be... presentable."

He wasn't naïve. He knew who Endeavor was, he knew what kind of life Shoto had led, the kind of childhood he'd had. Still, he always felt blindsided whenever Shoto revealed another part of the story: a new memory, a new experience, a new facet of his life, a new hurt, a new trauma. It always felt like a punch to the gut, leaving him winded and gasping for air.

Of course, Shoto's dad had gone out of his way to get the most impressive dog possible. He could imagine the scene: a man like Enji Todoroki would never settle for the run-of-the-mill mutt like Eijiro's childhood pets. No, it had to be the dog with the best pedigree, the one with the most impressive skills, the dog that was worth the money. Eijiro grimaced at the thought of Shoto as a child, presented with an animal that wasn't meant to be his companion, but rather a tool, a possession, brought up with unquestionable obedience instead of love.

"What was its name?"

The ghost of a smile danced on Shoto's lips. "Mine was called Kotaro. He was a good dog, all things considered."

"I bet he thought you were a good owner," Eijiro smiled. He tucked Shoto's hair back, and Shoto closed his eyes, leaning into the touch.

"Maybe," he murmured.

The cat, finally deciding she'd had enough of their attention, jumped off the table and walked around, her tail held high, her whiskers twitching. She surveyed the place, her nose brushing the ground, the furniture, the corners. She inspected their shoes, and the books on the coffee table, the potted plants and the pictures on the wall. She seemed particularly interested in the small, plastic Red Riot statue Katsuki had insisted on buying after Eijiro's debut, and then had proceeded to lovingly mock every chance he'd gotten.

"What are we gonna call her?"

"What are we gonna call who, exactly?"

Katsuki stared at them, a look of disbelief on his face. The cat, her tail held high, and her ears pricked, sauntered her way up to him. She circled him a couple times, before rubbing her head against his legs. She purred and rolled over, offering her soft belly for him to scratch.

"The cat," Shoto said.

"The cat. Which is in our house," Katsuki deadpanned.

"Yeah," Eijiro nodded.

"I see."

"Her name is Hana," Shoto replied. "I mean, I like that name. Aki is also good. Or Tomoko. You can suggest something else, if you want. And she's ours now, by the way. Don't try to argue with us, she already chose you as her favorite."

Katsuki looked at Shoto. Then he looked at Eijiro, then at the cat, and then at the table. "Did you put the cat on the table?"

"I didn't put her there, she decided on her own," Shoto replied, completely unbothered by the way Katsuki's eyes narrowed at him.

Eijiro tried and failed to cover up his laughter. The image of Katsuki, standing in their living room, his hair in disarray and his face still covered in soot, looking at the cat like it had killed his family, was the funniest thing he'd seen all day. Shoto politely hid his own behind a cough, and Katsuki pointed a finger at him.

"I know you're laughing, you bastard," he growled. "And you," he said, turning to the cat. He got on his knees and scratched her stomach, earning himself contented little sounds. "You better pray you don't have a parasite, or I'm going to deworm the shit out of you."

Shoto's lips were pursed, but the twinkle in his eyes betrayed his amusement. "Is he threatening to take care of the cat?"

Eijiro couldn't stop laughing. Katsuki shot him a death glare.

"I'm going to take a shower," he grumbled, heading straight for the bathroom.

"You're not gonna argue?" Eijiro asked, wiping a stray tear from his cheek.

"Oh, he will," Shoto snorted. "And then he's gonna buy her a litter box, and get the best brand of dry food for her, and all the catnip she could want. But don't tell him I told you, or he'll make us both sleep on the couch."

Eijiro leaned across the table, and took Shoto's hand. "Please. He loves us too much for that."

The sun hit the flower mosaic, painting the room and everything in it with its kaleidoscope of colors. The cat, suddenly mesmerized, pawed at the light and jumped onto the table, the glass clinking softly as her claws tapped the surface.

Eijiro brought Shoto's to his lips and kissed his scratched knuckles. "How do you feel about naming her Yukako?"

3. The chabudai

"Do you think—oh, duck." Eijiro rolled away just in time, narrowly avoiding the spray of purple acid thrown at him. "Do you think this is a sign we should move?"

Katsuki tightened his grip on the cast iron skillet, and swung it against the other villain's head. The sound it made when it hit the target was more than enough to let him know his aim had been true, and the body fell limp on the ground. "As in "get a new apartment" move or "leave the city" move? Hey, four o'clock."

Eijiro spun around, blocking the attack aimed for his back with a hardened arm. "Both, I guess. I was thinking maybe "get a house " move. We can afford it now. Maybe some place with a garden."

He grabbed the villain by the scruff of their neck, and slammed them against the wall. The cheap drywall crumbled, giving them a clear view into the neighboring apartment. The elderly couple screamed when they saw the unconscious villain, and the hole in their wall.

"Sorry." Eijiro bowed. He raised his arm when he heard someone yelling behind him, knocking out the other villain mid-attack. "So sorry about that. Please call the police."

"A garden would be nice," Katsuki eventually conceded. "I don't know, Ei. Maybe. We should discuss this once we're not fighting for our lives."

Spikes shot at them from the other side of the room. Katsuki ducked, bringing his arms over his head to shield himself. He had to admit, it had been a long time coming. He'd lost count of how many times their neighbors had filed complaints against them. Figures that the one who would finally take action ended up being a villain. "God, and I really liked this building, too."

"Me too," Eijiro agreed, his voice strained. He grunted, and the snapping of bones echoed in the other room. "Think Shoto is okay?"

"I'm fine!" came the answer, followed by the sound of another body hitting the floor. "You guys need help in there?"

"Nah, we're good," Katsuki shouted back.

Two other faceless goons came barreling towards him, and Katsuki calmly thrust his hand out, an explosion following. The pair were sent flying across the living room, crashing into the wall, and he crumpled to the ground in a heap. Three planters, gifts from Hanta's trip to Malaysia, crashed down as well, soil spilling everywhere.

"Damn," Eijiro said, surveying the damage. "Those were handcrafted, jackass."

Truthfully Eijiro wasn't all too keen on the idea of moving from the city, but considering that it was the third time someone broke into their home after realizing the couple of three living there were none other than heroes Red Riot, Dynamight, and Shoto, he was more than amenable to a change of scenery. Really, Shoto was the only one who was taking it calmly. A little too calmly, in the opinion of the very angry, very tired, very happy-to-blow-home-invaders-up Katsuki.

Shoto sprinted into the room, his left side burning bright, flames licking his face, his hair whipping the way it did when he used his powers. Even now, covered in sweat and grime, with his hair a complete mess, he still managed to look breathtaking. Eijiro laced his fingers with Katsuki's, both of them staring at him with a dumbfounded expression.

"What?"

Katsuki shook his head, clearing his throat. "Nothing, you're just—" he waved his hand around, a gesture that encompassed the entirety of Shoto.

"Gorgeous," Eijiro finished for him, his eyes never straying from Shoto.

A small smile tugged at the corner of his lips. "That's very flattering," Shoto said, leaning over to press a kiss to Katsuki's temple. He turned to Eijiro and did the same.

"Hey, lovebirds," the villain screeched, and all three of them turned to stare at her. Her lip curled into a snarl. "If you're gonna keep staring at each other, then I'll just have to get rid of you, won't I?"

"We should probably stop her before she calls for any more help," Eijiro said.

"On it," Shoto replied, and before the words were fully out, he was already sending a wave of ice towards her. "I heard about leaving the city. There's some nice apartments in Izu. We should check those out."

"Oh, good idea! I always liked it there," Eijiro agreed, his tone way too enthusiastic considering their current situation. "How hard do you think it'll be to find something close to the beach?"

"Oh my God," the villain snarled. She spat more acid onto the ice, but Shoto simply created more before she could do any lasting damage. "Do you idiots ever shut up?"

Katsuki rolled his eyes, his hands coming together, creating a deafening explosion right next to her ear.

"So," Katsuki said, turning to Shoto, "we're thinking beachfront?"

"Yeah, it'd be a nice change."

The villain glared at them, being disoriented doing little to pacify her. "You… once I get out of here, I'm going to take great joy in killing you." She turned to Eijiro. "I think I'll start with Red Riot."

"Like hell you are."

Just as Katsuki was about to stuff a shred of his singed shirt in her mouth and quiet her for good, she shrieked, her mandibles snapping together to make a horrible clicking noise. It bounced off the walls at a frequency so high, they covered their ears to try and block it.

"I will not be locked up! Not again!" she shouted.

The building rumbled, and the wall behind them burst open. If the other residents of the building hadn't thought to run away before, they definitely were now. The building rumbled, and the wall behind them burst open. A giant figure climbed in, blocking out the light.

"I really liked this place," Eijiro lamented, a pout on his lips. "We had such nice neighbors… bar this one, I mean. Do you think the landlord will let us break our lease early?"

"Probably not," Katsuki said.

Shoto nodded. "I really doubt that."

The hulking mass of muscle and fur that answered its ally's call roared at them, his claws swiping the air. Shoto grabbed Katsuki and Eijiro and rolled them away, just as the beast crashed through the rest of the wall.

"You know," he said, "this isn't the worst home invasion I've gone through. At least they're fully clothed this time."

Shoto had casually admitted his childhood had been witness to all sorts of people breaking in: rabid fans of Endeavor, who had found out his personal address. Rabid fans of other heroes who came to vandalize the place. Several villains, who were convinced breaking into the number two's house was a brilliant idea. The first time some D-grade crook had come into their apartment, it was Shoto who calmly diffused the situation by breaking their nose, something which, he told them, hadn't failed him before.

Katsuki sighed. "That's... not very reassuring, Shoto."

"No," Eijiro agreed, "it's not."

The beast's roar was a deep, guttural sound, and it shook the walls of their apartment. Eijiro raised a hardened arm just in time as the man swiped his massive claws, one of them cracking when it came into contact with the unbreakable skin.

Suddenly, all five people in the room turned as they heard a soft chiming noise, like that of a little bell. Yukako jumped out from where she'd been hiding under the table, looking curiously at the scene in front of her.

"Oh no," Eijiro whispered.

The beast-man roared at Yukako. She licked her paw, and then jumped right on his face.

"No! Bad cat, don't get involved!" Katsuki yelled, making a wild grab at her.

"You idiot!" the woman hissed. "Forget the stupid cat, attack them!"

Despite their massive size difference, Yukako managed to scratch him up good. She dug her claws into his face and bit everywhere she could find. Her flower-shaped bell ran wildly as the villain swung around in a desperate attempt to pull her off.

The beast man eventually pulled Yukako's tail, and she yowled, hissing and clawing at the air. There were deep cuts all over him.

"You fucker, get your gross claws off of her!"

"Katsuki, wait, you're going to hit her—"

Eijiro reached for the first thing he could find. His fingers wrapped around solid wood, and without thinking, he brought it down with all the strength he possessed, feeling his muscles flex and his bones strain under the pressure. The beast howled as wood struck his temple, clutching its head, and Yukako leapt into Katsuki's arms. Eijiro hit him again and again, using the edge of the chabudai for extra impact, until he finally stopped fighting.

Shoto took the opportunity to create a block of ice, trapping the other villain. He took a few steps back, his chest heaving.

"Is everyone okay?"

"We're fine," Katsuki said, checking over their cat, who seemed mostly unharmed.

The villain screamed and kicked from where she was still restrained. "You... you insolent heroes! When I get out of here, I'm going to take that stupid cat and—"

Eijiro swung the chabudai again. Her jaw snapped shut, and her head hung low, body going limp.

"You know, I forgot we even had this. Did we ever thank your dad for getting this for us?" Eijiro weighed the wooden table in his hand. "I really like it. It's not very heavy, but it's a good, solid wood. It didn't even chip!"

"And the design is nice," Shoto agreed.

"It'll go nicely with the rest of the furniture that isn't destroyed."

"Let's not jinx it."

Katsuki looked out of the broken wall. Cop cars, EMTs, and other heroes swarmed the building, helping the civilians evacuate. "So. Beachfront?"

"Beachfront," Eijiro and Shoto agreed.

"You can't get rid of me," the woman slurred. "I've been planning this for months. You don't get to ruin it."

"For fuck's sake, you villains just don't know when to go down, do you?" Katsuki gestured for the chabudai. "May I?"

"By all means," Eijiro replied.

Shoto nodded, his expression solemn.

"What are you doing?" She screeched. "That's—"

She was cut off when Katsuki's explosion propelled the table with more force than was necessary, knocking her out cold. Blood dribbled down her forehead.

"Well," Eijiro said. "That was anticlimactic."

"You're telling me," Katsuki replied.

"I can't believe you two," Shoto sighed. "Using a perfectly good table as a projectile weapon."

Eijiro snorted. "As if you wouldn't have done the same. Yukako, come here." The cat obediently padded over, and Eijiro picked him up. "Who's a good kitty, who's the best kitty? What do you think about a nice, new home on the beach, hmm? We can buy you lots of toys, and a big tree, and a new chabudai for your daddies."

Yukako mewed, nuzzling Eijiro's cheek with her blood-stained snout.

"I'll take that as a yes."

+1. The sofa

Eijiro hummed as Shoto's fingers carded through his damp hair, carefully untangling the knotted strands. Shoto looked away from his book and smiled down at him, the light from the window turning his hair into a soft halo. Next to him, Katsuki dozed off on Shoto's shoulder. Yukako laid on his lap, nestled comfortably under his arm and happy to be the center of attention. The sound of the waves just outside their door provided the perfect, calming soundtrack to a peaceful day.

"We need a new couch," Eijiro sighed, breaking the moment.

Shoto frowned. "What's wrong with this one?"

"Other than that I can feel a spring almost puncturing my dick? Nothing."

Katsuki snickered, cracking one eye open. "Maybe you should have thought about that before you got drunk and broke the poor thing."

Eijiro shot him a glare. "In my defense, you and Shoto were the ones who suggested we break it. Remember, you wanted me to bend—"

"Hey! Not in front of the child!" Katsuki interrupted, covering Yukako's ears. She didn't even react, simply licked his hand and settled back down.

"You do have a point." Shoto marked his page and set his book aside. "We should look into getting a new one."

The couch had been pre-owned when they bought it. It was a beat up and well-worn thing with cushions that sank when they sat down. Its upholstery was a burnt orange color that was just slightly off putting and menacing, and for some reason it had the phrase "choose happiness" embroidered in purple thread on the side of the left armrest. It was the ugliest thing in the secondhand shop Mina had dragged them to that day, and all it had taken was one shared look of understanding before they simultaneously realized they needed it in their lives.

Now it had run its course. Eijiro winced and shifted his leg to avoid the spring digging dangerously close to his thigh, and looked up at his partners with pleading eyes.

"I want one of those fancy ones that turns into a bed," Eijiro said. "With the pull-out cushions and everything."

"We don't need a whole other bed. There's two guest rooms here already. You really want to have a bed in the living room too?" Katsuki asked.

"I'm just saying, a sofa bed could come in handy. You know, for when the old gang wants to come over. Or if we ever have too many guests. It's always good to have an extra bed, you know."

"You mean, for when you want to fuck in the living room, but you don't want to dirty our nice couch," Katsuki teased.

Eijiro sat up, flushed a bright red all the way up to his ears. "That is... not the only reason why we need a sofa bed."

They laughed. Yukako, startled by the noise, got up and padded her way towards Eijiro, hopping onto his lap. She curled up into a little ball and made herself comfortable, purring softly as Eijiro scratched her.

"Alright, I guess a new couch isn't a bad idea. I think my ass is going to end up with an imprint of these damn springs anyway," Katsuki said.

Eijiro snorted. "Told you. So, are we doing this? Are we actually looking for a new couch?"

"Sure," Katsuki shrugged.

"Cool. I was also thinking we should get married."

"Sure," Shoto said.

Katsuki blinked at them. "Wait, what?"

"I said, we should get married. You, me, and Shoto. All three of us."

Katsuki blinked, his mouth opening and closing. Eijiro thought he had an uncanny resemblance to their cat when he did that, the same wide eyes and gaping mouth. He had to bite his tongue to keep himself from laughing.

"I—you…" He turned to Shoto. "Did... did you two plan this?"

Shoto grabbed his book again. "I had no idea he was going to ask. We've never talked about it before."

"No, we haven't," Eijiro agreed.

"You haven't." Katsuki was staring at them. His brows were furrowed, his eyes narrowed. "Are you fucking with me right now? Is this like the last time you two planned shit behind my back?"

"You're the one who decided to admit you like to call him Red Riot in the sack, don't pin this on us," Shoto said, his voice flat. "But, no. I didn't know Eijiro was planning on asking either. I want to, though. Do you not want to?"

"Okay, first, that was entirely unrelated, and we agreed to never talk about that again, and second... Shoto, Ei, three people can't get legally married."

Eijiro nodded. He knew that was true, but he also knew he didn't care. If they could have, he would have done it in a heartbeat already.

"That's fine. I love you, and I love Shoto. And we've been living together for like, seven years. I want to spend the rest of my life with you, both of you, so why not make it official, you know?"

He held his breath, waiting.

Katsuki stared at him, his jaw clenched. "You can't be serious."

"I'm completely serious."

"Why the hell didn't you bring this up sooner, then? Who just pops the question after discussing the purchase of a new sofa?"

Eijiro took their hands in his. All three had similar bruises and scars, signs of a hero's life, their knuckles battered, calloused from years of training and fighting.

"Because—why not? Why not just lay it out there? Why not wear a ring, and go and buy a sofa bed, and adopt another cat? I think we should. I don't know about you, but I think the three of us would be pretty great."

Shoto's grip tightened around Eijiro's hand. "We already are great, Eijiro." He brought it up to his lips and kissed his knuckles. "Getting another cat sounds amazing."

Katsuki let out a low groan. He buried his face in his hands, mumbling something under his breath.

"What was that?" Eijiro asked.

"I said, I'm an idiot," he muttered. "I can't believe I actually find this romantic. You might as well have proposed in Ikea."

Shoto snorted. "That's on you for not thinking one of us would propose sooner or later. I always figured you would do it first."

"Fuck off, Icyhot. I didn't think about it because it didn't cross my mind. I don't need a party or some shitty jewelry to know how you guys feel. You're always showing me you love me, and I don't doubt it for a second."

"Yeah, but it would be nice," Eijiro insisted. "Don't you want everyone to know that I'm your idiot, and that I'm going to keep on being your idiot until we're all wrinkly and old?"

"You just want bragging rights that you managed to make the biggest grouch in the agency fall in love with you," Shoto teased.

"Maybe," Eijiro shrugged. "Is that so bad?"

Katsuki was smiling, his eyes warm. He pulled Eijiro's hand to his mouth and bit his wrist. The two were so dumb, but the way they held his heart in their hands was nothing to joke about.

"I'm still mad you're proposing with a sofa, though."

"It's a sofa bed, and you agreed that we need a new one. And, we could have a nice party, maybe have a party, invite our friends and family. Izu is gorgeous in the summertime."

"We can get a matching set of rings," Shoto said. "All three, something simple, elegant."

"You're both fucking saps. I can't believe this."

"Again, I can't believe you actually thought Eijiro would have planned something more elaborate than this," Shoto said.

Eijiro pinched him. "Shut up, I can be very romantic. Bet you won't be saying that during our honeymoon. And anyway, that's a yes, right? To the wedding and the couch?"

Katsuki laughed and kissed him. Shoto's hand came to rest on the back of his neck, his fingers tracing small circles against his skin, and Katsuki kissed him deeper, the warmth of his body enveloping him.

"Of course, it's a yes," Katsuki said, his lips still pressed against Eijiro's, his breath hot on his skin and their foreheads pressed together. "Yes. A couch, a cat, a wedding, and anything else you two want."

They fell back into the couch, a mess of limbs and wandering hands, the weight of their bodies pressing Eijiro into the cushion. Shoto's lips brushed against his ear, his teeth tugged at his earlobe, and Katsuki's hands roamed over his body, his fingers digging into the hard muscles of his arms, his sides, his back.

Eijiro had just started to slide his hands under Shoto's shirt when the cat meowed loudly, protesting the sudden lack of space and their bodies jostling her around.

"Oh, shut up," Katsuki snapped, but his voice was light, almost playful. "You're the one who got between us, now deal with the consequences."

Yukako hissed at him and promptly jumped off the couch, leaving them to their own devices.

Eijiro's laughter was swallowed by Katsuki's lips. Hours later, long after they'd come down from their high and their bodies were tired and sated, they laid there, a tangle of arms and legs and bodies in a sofa that had seen better days, with Eijiro listening to Shoto's heartbeat while Katsuki played with their hair. The living room windows were open, the sounds of the waves and the breeze ruffling the curtains, the golden light that streamed through bathing them in the late spring heat.

He raised his hand towards the light, imagining the ring he would have. Gold like the sun, like the way their bodies felt pressed together, like how it was to come home after so long to see them waiting for him, to be loved by them.

A sofa bed. A wedding. A cat.

A lifetime together.

Yeah, Eijiro could get behind that.