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It’s been brewing for a while.
First, there were little hints; Katsuki stopping to tie his shoelaces beside a jewelry store and taking nine seconds instead of his usual three—a precise number he’d shaved down from four seconds last year—and that week when they watched no less than five wedding-themed romantic comedies because Katsuki was apparently ‘thinking of getting into blogging’ (Are you saying I’m too dumb to write reviews, had been his furious reply when Izuku asked why he wanted that. That shut him up).
He’d been thinking about marrying Kacchan for years, long before they reached graduation and pulled their heads out of the sand long enough to realize they were in love, just in time for an emotional, shoujo-style confession under the sakura trees that Katsuki still teased Izuku for. He’d planned out various romantic proposals since then: a grassy hillside under the stars, the roof of their agency, a beach at sunset.
All of that was mercilessly shut down when he tentatively asked Katsuki if he ever thought of marriage only for Katsuki to laugh and laugh before telling him don’t even think about it.
In all fairness, that was five days into their relationship. He’d essentially tossed a vat of water over a fresh sapling and chanted, grow, tree, grow. It wasn’t a recipe for success.
But then came all the hints. The fresh flowers Katsuki sometimes brought home, him waving at a baby on patrol—something he had sworn he would never do—and the ring advertisements that started showing up on Izuku’s phone… they were all pointing to a clear conclusion.
Most importantly, one evening when they were lounging on the couch, Katsuki looked over and said, “So, when should we have the wedding?”
Izuku choked on his seaweed cracker.
After a brief interlude for the Heimlich maneuver and some yelling about the fact that Japan’s top hero almost died choking on a cracker, Izuku sputtered, “You want to get married?”
“‘Course,” Katsuki said bluntly. “Don’t you?”
His mouth fell ajar. “How could you even ask that? I would have married you when we were four years old.”
“That’s not legally binding.”
“I’d have married you when we were fourteen.”
“I was a little asshole.”
“I know.” He smiled. “But you were my little asshole.”
“Jerk,” he grumbled, shoving Izuku’s shoulder.
His cheeks had gone a gorgeous shade of pink, so cute that Izuku couldn’t help but scramble forward and wrap his arms around Katsuki, planting a kiss dripping with affection on his temple, then the peak of his cheekbone, lingering to feel the delicate brush of Katsuki’s eyelashes against his face. It was an old, familiar pantomime: Katsuki squirmed like an electric eel in a facsimile of discomfort, turning his face away with a pout so endearing it should have been illegal, while Izuku clung onto him not unlike a rider on a mechanical bull.
“Still gotta propose,” he piped up, even as Izuku started pressing joyful kisses to his cheeks. “You—Izuku—” He batted him away, gazing up at him with big, shining eyes. “Don’t even think about it. I’m gonna propose.”
His momentary surprise let Katsuki slip out of his embrace. “What? No way! I’ve been waiting for this my whole life.”
He grabbed Izuku’s elbows and shoved them down, climbing onto his lap. “Don’t care. You missed your chance.”
“Missed my—you told me not to think about it!”
“I didn’t mean for four years!” Scarlet eyes sharpened into a glower, knees tightening by Izuku's hips. “Just for more than twenty-four hours.”
“It was five days—and I wasn’t proposing! I just asked if you’d thought about it.”
“Doesn’t matter. You had lots of windows since then and you blew it. I’m proposing.”
His hands shot out, grabbing Katsuki’s waist while he was off-guard and twisting around to toss him onto the sofa. Katsuki made a rapid lunge to break free, but Izuku was faster, catching hold of his wrists and pinning them over his head. “No, I’m proposing.”
Katsuki pushed up against him, but Izuku bore his weight down, keeping him in place. “Fuck you. I am.”
“I am.”
“The hell you are! I—”
Izuku bent down, closing their mouths together to swallow his mumbled protests—a small, soft hitch of breath, and Katsuki was kissing him back, sweet and enthusiastic and messy in that way he’d never perfected but Izuku absolutely adored. His clasp on Katsuki’s wrists eased, and he pulled his arms free, wrapping them around Izuku’s neck, one slender hand shoving into the loose tangle of green curls to hold him close.
When they broke apart for air, Izuku said, quiet and awed, “We’re really getting married.”
“Not without a proposal, we’re not. My proposal.”
Izuku grinned back at him. “We’ll see about that.”
-
Two nights later, they were at a semi-nice restaurant a few blocks away from the agency, worn out after a patrol in which no less than three separate gangs decided to try their chances robbing the same very unfortunate bank. Dust and dirt was smeared all over Katsuki’s hair, a faint bruise already purpling on his cheekbone; even looking like he was thrown through five layers of walls, he stood out like a blazing firecracker against the backdrop of the restaurant.
Though Izuku had spent years fantasizing about the perfect way to propose to him, he was on a strict time limit. At any point Katsuki could propose, and all his plans would be ruined. So, he had to improvise.
Their waitress was in the midst of clearing their plates when Izuku stood up, walked around the table, and got down on one knee.
Katsuki’s eyes glinted, sharp and dangerous, but Izuku reached for his hand anyway with the distinct feeling that he was grabbing a rattlesnake by the tail. Just as his fingers met that warm, sweat-damp palm, Katsuki jerked away, nostrils flaring.
Every pair of eyes in the restaurant were turning to them. Looked like they were going to cause a scene.
“Kacchan,” he began, taking advantage of the fact that Katsuki was either shell-shocked or too busy seething to interrupt him. “I’ve loved you since we were little kids, even when you bullied me, and when you said my hair looked like a clump of seaweed, and when you hid my clothes after gym so I had to call my mom to bring me another set but she couldn’t get out of work so I had to use my sweaty clothes for the rest of the day, then you made fun of me for smelling like sweat and called me ‘Sweaty Boy’ until I cried.”
He paused to take a breath. The diners around them looked less charmed and more horrified. Maybe he should have held off on a proposal until he was certain he had a decent speech, because if he were Katsuki, he would reject this, too.
“Anyway,” he said hastily, just as Katsuki opened his mouth. “We moved past all of that, and I—I love you, and I want to spend the rest of my life with you. Will you marry me?”
Silence swept across the restaurant like a cold, harsh breeze. He sincerely hoped nobody was videotaping this, because the scarlet hue of Katsuki’s face was not comforting and if the inevitable rejection was broadcast online, he was in hot water with both of their PR teams.
He could feel everyone in the restaurant watching them with bated breath, waiting for the answer, but another minute rolled past with no response.
Tentatively, he prompted, “Kacchan?”
Finally, Katsuki inhaled, crossing his arms. “You don’t have a ring.”
He cursed himself. Four years in a loving relationship and a lifetime of knowing each other, countless times he had planned this perfect moment, and he had forgotten to buy the ring. “We can go shopping tomorrow.”
“I’m stuck in meetings all day.”
“The day after tomorrow.”
“Promised Kirishima we’d go on a hike.”
“Thursday?”
“Some high school brats are coming in for a tour of the agency.”
Izuku’s head was starting to throb. “The weekend?”
“The old hag invited us to stay for a few days. Said she’s got some photo albums to sort through and wants our help. It’s supposed to be a surprise, but she’s gonna make that spicy katsudon you liked last time.”
He brightened. “Oh, really? That sounds great. Should I buy the ingredients? I’d feel bad going empty-handed.”
“Nah, she’ll handle it, but Dad finished a job for a client who’s been on his ass for months so I figured we’d take a bottle of whiskey or some of those chocolates he liked from that fancy place next to the barber—you know, the one where IcyHot got that shitty haircut.”
“Did it grow out yet? I haven’t seen him in a while, and in his latest press conferences he’s always wearing a hat so—”
“Are you accepting the proposal or not?”
A woman was standing with clenched fists behind Katsuki, eyes huge and brimming with frustration.
“Oh,” Katsuki said casually. “No.”
Feeling a little dumb, Izuku stood up, brushing the lint off his knee.
“No?” she repeated, dumbfounded.
“No,” Izuku said, matter-of-fact.
“No,” Katsuki repeated. “What am I, cheap meat?” He looked back at Izuku, gesturing at his plate. “Finish your food. It’s getting cold.”
They finished the rest of their meal in silence with a restaurant full of strangers gawking at them.
-
It was a terrible day to go to the amusement park. It was already a rather juvenile activity for two pro heroes, a fact confirmed when they showed up to find the resort overrun by families, but the mild twinge of embarrassment at accidentally having chosen Family Friday for their date paled in comparison to the stifling weather, ripe with so much humidity that the weather report meteorologist’s hair formed a frizzy halo around her head.
“Told you we should have waited for next week,” Katsuki grumbled, thirty minutes into the line for the most intimidating rollercoaster in the park. There was a toddler crying nearby, wiping his eyes with balled fists while his weary-looking mother tried to comfort him. Katsuki used to complain about children, so it came as a surprise when he shot the pair an oddly fond look. Izuku made a mental note to revisit that later.
“It’s raining next week,” he pointed out.
“So? At least it would be empty.”
“Because they wouldn’t be operating the rides! It’s not safe. We could get zapped by lightning, or—”
“We wouldn’t get zapped by lightning.”
“—the wind could push us off a rollercoaster—”
“With seatbelts on?”
“Or—” He cut himself off, pouting. “Will you stop interrupting me? I’m thinking of our safety.”
“Yeah, yeah.” Katsuki shifted his weight to his other leg, letting out a sharp huff upwards, blowing his sweat-damp hair off his forehead. His face had gone bright pink, concentrated over his sunburnt nose and cheeks as if he were wearing blush.
Though part of Izuku was still unreasonably annoyed that Katsuki didn’t acknowledge the possibility of death by lightning, he couldn’t resist reaching over to stroke a stray lock of hair away from his cheek, making him flinch in surprise. Sweat came away on his fingers, warm and sticky, and he managed to cull the instinctive urge to taste it in favor of wiping it off on his jeans.
The look in Katsuki’s eyes had softened, which eased him a little. It wasn’t often they both managed to get a full day off, so the idea of wasting their precious, uninterrupted time together on an activity Katsuki wouldn’t enjoy would have filled Izuku with enough guilt that he’d end up losing arguments for the next year.
The next fifteen minutes passed quickly, as Izuku spotted an ice-cream stand that sold All Might popsicles, which set them off into a surprisingly civil debate about the merits of popsicles versus ice-cream—something that proved more entertaining than the rollercoaster. It hadn’t occurred to him that their careers might have desensitized them to flying around in the air, so a rollercoaster focused only on providing fear-inducing thrills was a step beneath doing it themselves with the added bonus of villains trying to kill them.
They went on a few more rides afterwards, including the bumper cars, where Katsuki nearly damaged the reputation of heroes irreversibly with a brutal attack on a civilian. Despite the crowds and the disappointment over the rollercoasters, it turned out to be entertaining, too. More than the rides themselves, Izuku liked seeing Katsuki’s face when he was enjoying himself. He always looked younger when he was smiling, so beautiful that Izuku’s heart still twisted when he heard him laugh, even after all these years.
After having overpriced chicken sandwiches for lunch, they ended up sitting on the grass with a single crepe between them. Izuku was holding it, so Katsuki leaned in to take bites every few seconds like a bird going after seeds on the ground, accidentally smearing chocolate sauce over the corner of his mouth.
Izuku smiled, reached up with his free hand to wipe away some of the chocolate. “You’re covered in chocolate.”
“Worth it,” he said, diving back into the crepe with a shark-like bite. Somehow he managed to dab chocolate sauce on his nose, and it was such a priceless sight that Izuku wished he had his hands free so he could take a photo. He contented himself with leaning down to bite into the crepe, careful to leave the strawberry untouched. A moment later, Katsuki swooped down and caught the juicy, red berry between his teeth, eyes sparkling. Izuku smiled.
When the crepe was finished, Izuku wiped his hands on one of the tissues and offered the other to Katsuki, who grabbed it and cleaned his face so aggressively his skin was left bright red, though that could have also been the sunburn. They would have to stop at a pharmacy to pick up some aloe on the way home, or Katsuki would complain all night about his nose itching.
Izuku was about to point out that Katsuki still had chocolate on his nose when he cleared his throat and reached into his backpack to pull out a small box. Instinctively, shock and joy surged through his chest, quickly followed by dismay and indignation when he remembered he was supposed to be doing that.
Katsuki opened the box, revealing a plain gold band. “Marry me.”
He let out a disbelieving laugh. “You have chocolate on your nose.”
“So what? You gonna reject my proposal because of that?”
“No,” he conceded. “But it’s still a no.” Teasingly, he added, “It’s not a proposal without a speech.”
“Figured.” Katsuki turned to the side and flung the ring into the air, aiming so it landed perfectly in a nearby trashcan. “Where do you wanna go next?”
Izuku’s jaw dropped. “Did you just throw away a gold ring?”
“Nah. I bought it for a few yen from Don Quijote.”
“You proposed to me with a cheap discount store ring?”
“Well, I wasn’t gonna let you turn down a real ring.”
Izuku paused. That was fair. “But why’d you throw it away? We could have kept it as a keepsake.”
“A reminder of the time my boyfriend rejected my marriage proposal,” Katsuki said dryly, making him wince. “What’s wrong with you, anyway? Getting proposed to at an amusement park was always your dream.”
“Yeah, when I was fifteen, maybe.”
“I’m sorry, I forgot you’re a big shot who’s too good for amusement park dates now!”
“I didn’t say—”
“It was your nerdy ass that dragged us here on my day off!”
“I didn’t say I don’t like amusement parks,” he interjected, exasperated. “Just that getting proposed to when we’re both sweaty and tired with lots of families staring at us isn’t exactly the best way for this to happen.”
Katsuki took a quick glance around to find that there were, indeed, at least ten onlookers staring at them with varying expressions of disbelief. It had been hard enough to sweet-talk his way out of a lecture from his PR team last time; Izuku wasn’t escaping it this time.
“What’re you looking at?” Katsuki barked at the strangers, most of whom rapidly looked away, though not before shooting him a dirty look. He glanced back at Izuku, stretching his arms. “Fine, whatever. Got any other complaints or can we go make out in the tunnel ride now?”
A smile spread across his face. “Sounds like a plan.”
-
It was still early, a soft hue of orange dawning across the sky. Multiple layers of blankets drew a lazy, syrupy kind of heat to the bed, warming his bones, but Izuku snuggled closer to Katsuki anyway, pressing his nose against the nape of his neck and inhaling his warm, clean scent.
“Kacchan.”
A grumpy, non-committal hum.
“Kacchan. Are you awake?”
A half-hearted kick landed against his ankle. “I am now. What?”
“I can’t wait until you’re my husband.”
There was a long pause, long enough that he wondered whether Katsuki had gone back to sleep or was just plotting the best way to kick him out of bed, before Katsuki turned his head around, eyes still half-lidded and bleary with sleep, cheeks pink from the imprint of the pillow.
“Izuku,” he mumbled. “Go back to sleep.”
He let out a quiet laugh and threw his arm around Katsuki’s waist, burying his face into his neck to hide a smile.
-
At this time, the agency was quiet. Most of the interns and sidekicks had taken their lunch breaks outside of the building, so Izuku’s cubicle was blissfully quiet for once, devoid of the sounds of arguing, giggling, and gossip that somehow he was always dragged into. He hadn’t brought lunch today, so he pushed down the pang of hunger to focus his attention on the mountain of paperwork he had to fill out.
The ding of the elevator doors clicking open at the other end of the room made him sigh. If he were lucky, it might have been an assistant that had no interest in talking to him. Heavy footsteps moved closer and closer, and it was only when he picked up the familiar scent of burnt sugar that recognition dawned on him.
Izuku brightened, dropping his pen. “Kacchan!”
There were still a few plumes of smoke around Katsuki’s costume; he’d probably blasted himself all the way here considering that his patrol route today was supposed to take him to the other side of the city. He plonked a wooden box onto the desk, just barely avoiding the documents. “Hey, nerd. What’re you doing?”
“Just some paperwork. The Commission might actually kill me if I submit these mission reports after the deadline again.”
“What a shame,” he deadpanned with so little concern that Izuku couldn’t help but huff a laugh. His hair was sticking up in all directions, bright as a dandelion, his eyes shimmering with barely-concealed amusement as he looked down at Izuku. “You gonna greet me properly or what?”
His face breaking out into a grin, Izuku pushed away the paperwork and stood up, pulling Katsuki to him with a firm hand curled around his hip. They were almost the same height, but when they were like this, by some miracle that must have been bestowed upon Izuku to make up for all his suffering in middle school, Katsuki was just a little shorter, enough so that he had to tilt his chin up to look Izuku in the eyes.
His other hand found its way to Katsuki’s cheek, gently brushing a thumb over his cheekbone. If he looked at Katsuki a moment longer, his heart would probably implode, helpless to those scarlet eyes that could floor him without even trying, so he gave into the gravity between them, guiding Katsuki’s jaw up and pressing their lips together. He avoided displays of affection in the agency, but—well. It wasn’t his fault that Katsuki was irresistibly cute when he wanted a kiss.
Once they broke apart, Katsuki jerked his head towards the box. “Brought you lunch.”
His eyebrows lifted in surprise. “Weren’t you on patrol?”
“I got a chance to stop by the house on my break.” He sounded like he was trying to be casual, but his tone was so far from nonchalant that it was almost funny. “Someone’s gotta feed your stupid ass.”
Holding back a smile, he sat down in his desk chair, reaching over to lift the bento box’s lid.
Right in the center of the box, sitting on a bed of steamed rice, was a ring.
Momentary amusement flashed through him before he grabbed the chopsticks and began tucking into the meal. “Thanks, Kacchan. Everything looks delicious.”
He chanced a glance at Katsuki, who was now pouting, arms crossed.
“Something wrong?” he said innocently.
Katsuki cocked his head. “You tell me.”
“Well, there is one thing.” He gestured towards the ring. “I think a piece of plastic fell into my food.”
He snorted, giving Izuku a light slap on the side of his head. “Dumbass.”
-
Lightning split the sky, turning the expanse of darkness white-hot for a blinding moment and illuminating the jagged storm clouds before it ceased to give way for the rumble of thunder. Izuku lingered at the window for a second longer, then sighed, drawing the curtains shut and turning back to Katsuki, who was on his knees in front of the television, rummaging through the drawers in the cabinet.
“I don’t think it’s gonna ease up,” Izuku said mournfully. “We’re gonna get all wet on patrol tomorrow.”
Katsuki had one arm outstretched in the portion of the drawer that fell underneath the stand, face screwed up in concentration. “We got umbrellas.”
“I know, but—Kacchan, can you stop? I told you, I don’t need the candles. I just thought it would be nice, I didn’t know you’d have to look for them for, like, half an h—”
He drew his arm out of the cabinet, triumphantly brandishing an unopened box of tealights. “Found them. Anything else I can fetch for you, Midoriya-sama?”
He let out a snort of laughter, bending down to take the box from Katsuki. “No, thanks. You earned a break.”
“Good.” Katsuki grabbed the hand Izuku offered to him and pulled himself to his feet. “I’m gonna get started on dinner. Should be ready in about twenty minutes.”
“Alright.” He leaned down to give Katsuki a short, fond kiss. “I’m looking forward to it.”
“Nerd.” He lightly bumped his shin against Izuku’s on his way past him to the kitchen.
With Katsuki occupied, Izuku turned his attention to distributing the tealights around the living room and lighting each one. He had worked so much overtime this week that when he got home, Katsuki was usually asleep, stirring only to mumble a request for a kiss when Izuku crawled into bed, so tonight, he was intent on making up for it. Even after all this time, he missed Katsuki whenever they were apart, even for a few hours. Last time he admitted that, Katsuki had called him a sappy dork with a pleased smile and gave him a kiss for his efforts.
Once all the candles were lit, he picked up the television remote to set up a movie Katsuki had been wanting to watch; some old drama set in the Taisho period that had swept all the major awards.
“Move.”
Izuku stepped aside, making room for Katsuki to place the tray he was carrying, laden with bowls of steaming miso soup and rice, onto the kotatsu. Once it was stable, Katsuki sat down on the floor, pulling the blanket over his lap, and glanced over his shoulder, eyebrows furrowed.
Hurriedly, Izuku sat beside him, snuggling in as close as possible and pulling the edges of the heavy blanket to cover his legs as well. “Thanks for cooking.”
“It’s nothing.”
He pressed a quick kiss to the side of Katsuki’s head, then picked up his spoon. It had been a while since Izuku had miso soup, but each time Katsuki cooked it for him, it brought a wave of memories.
Coming home from a mission and collapsing at the kitchen table, eyes half-closed, blood soaking through his clothes while Katsuki patched up his wounds and fed him spoonfuls of soup. Lying in bed with a delirious fever and forcing himself to eat as Katsuki fretted over him until the bowl was finally empty. Sitting at the table for breakfast and watching the morning light dawn golden over Katsuki’s face on their first day waking up together in their new home.
“How is it?”
“Delicious,” Izuku said, giving him a warm smile. “I want to eat your soup for the rest of my life.”
Katsuki put down his spoon. “Okay.”
He paused with his own halfway to his mouth. “Okay?”
“Okay,” he said simply.
Slowly, he set down his own spoon, turning to face Katsuki, who had an inexplicable emotion on his face; something new, nervous, pleased, the corner of his lips twitching. It took a moment for it to sink in before happiness crashed through Izuku like a dam splitting open and he threw his arms around Katsuki, who hugged him back so tightly he could barely breathe, pushing his smile into his neck.
“I love you,” Izuku managed to say. Salt was stinging at his eyes, turning his vision blurry.
“Crybaby.” Katsuki pulled back and gave him a watery smile. “I love you, too.”
That brought a fresh wave of tears, but he just smiled back at him and cupped Katsuki’s face, taking a moment to take him in, the unabashed joy glowing on his face and his gorgeous smile, before kissing him once more.
When they broke apart, Izuku declared, “I beat you. Technically.”
Katsuki looked far too smug for someone who lost. “Don’t care. I have you. I won anyway.”
“Now who’s the sappy one?”
“Still you,” he said with that same brilliant, unguarded smile. “And you owe me a ring, winner.”
Izuku laughed and reached for Katsuki’s hand, threading their fingers together and lifting their entwined hands to press a tender kiss to Katsuki’s knuckles. “Anything for my future husband.”