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Izuku isn’t sure what wakes him up but he immediately knows something isn’t right. The mattress is too hard, his head is at a weird angle, there is a distinct lack of red and blue behind his eyes, and he is entirely (though not uncomfortably) too warm.
He blinks his sleepy greens open, slowly at first because—eww, eye gunk—then more rapidly as his vision resolves the blurry, square image in front of him.
Oh right.
He was too tired to go home after helping Kacchan and Shouto clean up after the unofficial housewarming the combined BakuDekusquad hosted last night… with Shouto’s blessing of course! And Kacchan’s disgruntled, begrudging surrender.
Izuku smiles at the memory of how quickly Kacchan schooled his rage when the pleased smile appeared on Shouto’s face when they all showed up with food and drink at the door of their first ever apartment together.
Didn’t stop him from grumbling grumpily about it as their friends, Uraraka (with food) and Kaminari (with drink) “made a mess” of his pristine kitchen all night.
All in all, a success. It was so cute how excited Shouto was, in his signature understated way, to show them all the details in their apartment that mattered most to him: the double cat tower for KitKat, their king-sized bed in the sizeable bedroom (Kirishima and Sero snickered shamelessly at this, not even daunted by Kacchan’s hissed “ya got something to say dumbasses?”), and the 4 x 2 foot framed collage that Fuyumi made for them as a housewarming present.
It hung high on the wall directly across from where Izuku lay under the kotatsu, surrounded on all sides by their black double corner cushion rug. Even from the floor, Izuku could make out the deep care and painstaking thought that Fuyumi had put into the collection. It didn't just have photos of their healing biological family; it also contained those of Shouto’s found family: photos of Class 1A at various points of their lives, like sports festivals, graduation, news clippings of their debut and prominent missions, and also fun moments like holidays and random get togethers.
What no one would miss in these photos, moreso than Izuku’s frequent appearance in them, is Kacchan’s solid presence in Shouto’s life, a presence that physically got closer and closer to the dual-haired hero over time.
Izuku loves Shouto and everything but he thinks his favorite one is the selfie Fuyumi took of herself and Kacchan in the Todoroki kitchen at some point in their third year. That day, Kacchan came over to learn how to make cold soba the way Shouto grew up with.
In the photo, Fuyumi is grinning ear to ear and holding up a peace sign next to an inconvenienced-looking Kacchan holding up a bowl of beautifully plated soba, lips pursed in a bored (obviously fake) expression.
And while the best photo isn't from him, Izuku is proud to have contributed many of these photos and mementos (keeping the best ones to himself and his future role at their nuptials, of course).
Sudden movement in the hallway catches his eye and Izuku realizes what woke him up—Kacchan opening the door of the main bedroom.
Sigh. Why must he wake up so early all the time?
Izuku pretends to be asleep as Kacchan plods down the wood floors on bare feet, yawning and scratching his hair as he pulls on a black tank top over a pair of brand new Red Riot sweatpants. Once the blonde passes the hallway, Izuku watches him move about the kitchen through the reflection of the framed collage.
Kettle. Coffee maker. Pan, cutting board, knife, pantry, refrigerator door.
Why is Izuku complaining about Kacchan being awake when he is about to get a freshly made Kacchan breakfast special for all his hard work last night? He smiles in anticipation and burrows deeper under the blanket to sleep for a few more minutes.
When he opens his eyes again, more light has entered the space and now two people were up and moving around the kitchen. He looks back up at the reflection on the collage just in time to see Shouto plant a long kiss on top of Kacchan’s head as the blonde hunched over the stove, stirring yummy somethings in a pan.
Kacchan’s brisk movements slow for the length of time Shouto’s lips are on top of his head. When Shouto lifts his head, Kacchan straightens up and chases the taller man’s lips for a quick peck. He says something against Shouto’s lips, and kisses him again before going back to focus on whatever it was he was making.
Shouto walks toward the refrigerator and pulls out first, a carton of milk, then a bag of strawberries and a bunch of grapes to wash in the sink. He places the washed fruits on a platter in the middle of the kitchen island and sits on the stool opposite the stove and, like Izuku, watches Kacchan cook.
As if sensing that he’s being watched, Kacchan lifts his head, eyebrow raised at Shouto inquiringly. “Why don’t you go shower first, princess? I’m almost done here anyway. I know how much you hate being messy.”
He stops, an evil smirk replacing the benign turn of his mouth. “Heh. Except when I—”
Shouto was only in side profile but Izuku could tell he was scandalized. “Shhhh Katsuki!”
“What?” Kacchan gestures over to the living room and even though he knows they can’t see him, Izuku shuts his eyes anyway to give credence to the lie. “Fuckers sleep like a damn log anyway, I’d have to drop a—”
His indignant protest is silenced suddenly and only “mmm”s and sizzling sounds from the pan are heard for a few beats.
Kacchan’s voice is markedly lower and rougher when he speaks again. “Careful Sho, any more of that and everyone here will be in for a rude awakening.”
Shouto hisses, sounding very much like KitKat—who has mysteriously not made an appearance all this time.
Ohhhhkay, time for me to make my entrance!
Izuku waits until Shouto walks back past the living room and into their bedroom. He’s wearing a silk dressing gown with a traditional Japanese pattern, a sharp contrast to the plush cat house slippers that muffle his already quiet steps.
From the reflection, Izuku could see Kacchan follow his retreating figure with a hunger that doesn’t come from a lack of food.
As soon as the door shuts, Izuku affects a big, loud yawn as he stretches his curled up body and… his toes poke a hard lump on the other side of the kotatsu much too large to be the missing cat.
Who stayed over too?
“You up, Deku?” Kacchan yells sharply from the kitchen.
Izuku immediately pulls his legs back and accidentally hits one of the table legs with his right knee.
“Ow!” He yelps and grips his thigh. He nailed the kneecap dead on too.
KitKat leaps out from the other side of the kotatsu. So that's where she's been hiding!
A head of spiky red hair peeks up from the other side, whipping left and right with half-closed eyes. “Who—wha—where’s the fight bro?!”
Oh right… Kirishima helped clean up last night too. Izuku crashed on the floor before they were totally done cleaning (he was still jetlagged from an overseas mission after all) so he just assumed everyone else left. I guess he was too tired to go home, too.
Izuku’s yowls turn into barely smothered laughs as he watches Kirishima sit up and valiantly rouse himself from a deep slumber, one hand held up defense while the back of the other hand rubbed the sleepiness from his eyes.
“What the fuckin’— Ei, wake up there’s no fight! Stupid Deku hit his damn knee because he apparently never learned how to get up from a goddamn kotatsu!”
Kacchan makes his way into the living room and waves a pair of chopsticks over them threateningly.
“Now if you damn lazy freeloaders are done loafing around, get up and set up some plates and shit, breakfast will be ready in a few minutes.”
Izuku and Kirishima both scramble to get up from under the heavy warmth of the floor. Izuku averts his eyes and looks down, pretending to search around the cushion for his phone, keys, anything, so he doesn’t gawk at shirtless Kirishima whose unbuttoned jeans were hanging dangerously low around his hips. So low, that if Izuku looked really closely, he might be able to tell if the shadow on his lower abdomen was cast from the window or was actually…
Kirishima shivers when the cool apartment air hits his skin as he stands up fully. Izuku sends a curse to the heavens because the sudden vision of the sturdy hero's marblesque physique was just as quickly enveloped in the long-sleeved shirt he wore last night.
“Let’s go, Izuku,” Kirishima yawns and carelessly throws an arm over his shoulder and pulls him toward the kitchen behind Kacchan.
Yeah okay maybe Kirishima putting his shirt on was a good thing.
The blonde had already turned around to finish up whatever heavenly thing was cooking on the stove. Once he and Kirishima stepped under the overhead lights of the kitchen, the redhead let go with a squeeze and started pulling cutlery from a nearby drawer.
“I’ll get these if you grab the plates?” He looks back at Izuku inquiringly, lower lip jutting out in a way that could only be described as adorable.
Izuku knew from their days at U.A that Kirishima was one of the cuddliest teddy bears on the planet. But early morning Kirishima? He was next level soft. Izuku wouldn’t believe it if he didn’t see it himself.
“Oh, oh yeah, yup! I can do that!” He yips in response, voice cracking from an unusually dry throat. Well, was it all that unusual, he just woke up after all?
What is wrong with me, seriously.
Kirishima beams at him just as Kacchan barks for Kirishima to “go get the glasses too, Shitty Hair, they’re right there.”
The table was set just as the giant omelette was finished. Kacchan nods approvingly at their work. “Not so useless after all, either of you.”
Impeccable timing as always, Shouto comes back out right as they were about to take their seats around the modest dining table. Kacchan sets a steaming mug of tea, kept warm in the microwave, on the placemat next to his as the hot and cold hero took his seat.
A small, grateful smile that reaches all the way to his eyes is Kacchan’s exclusive reward. Izuku wonders how Kacchan is able to stay standing when Shouto unloads all of his precious affection onto him. Even for a mere onlooker, it’s breathtaking.
“Mmm, thank you Katsuki, this looks absolutely delicious.”
“Yeah! Thanks Bakubro, can’t wait to dig in!”
“You’re the best, Kacchan, thank you for this meal!”
“Whatever losers. If you leave leftovers you’re never getting a crumb from me again.”
The other three men looked at each other knowingly and don’t say a word.
Sitting there with his closest friends, in the shared home of two of his favorite people, Izuku can barely contain the joy bursting in his heart.
It was amazing how quickly Kacchan and Shouto made this physical place an actual home, as much as they were already a home for each other.
Kacchan would die if anyone found out how easily he let Shouto ruffle his hair, even though it makes his spikes stick out every which way and how he even leans into it to kiss Shouto’s wrist as he does.
This is exactly the kind of ‘slice of life’ anecdote his best man speech was missing.