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A golden glow paints the kitchen in warm shades, distracting them from the cold temperatures of their first december morning together. Wooden walls not offering much refuge.
It was an old cabin anyway.
The worn, red kitchen cabinets emit a soft hue in the afternoon sunrays as flour powders the surface. The sight makes Izuku chuckle. What a mess. And then Katsuki too, his ashen blond whitened even further in the aftermath of chaos.
"That colour... suits you?" Izuku laughs, stirring the batch of batter. Katsuki doesn't look so amused, especially not when Izuku swipes his thumb across the brim of the bowl and raises it to his mouth.
He groans, grabs the base of Izuku’s thumb, and puts it in his mouth.
Izuku hisses when Katsuki bites down on the digit. Red eyes fixed a glare. "How many times do I have to tell you not to eat the fucking batter?" Izuku whines, "What other way is there to know how much sugar to add?" He tries, but the low effort retort only gains him a look of indifference.
Looking down at the slimy mess as he forces it into a stir, he sighs, "Fine, I won't do it again, you neat freak." But Izuku clamps around the wooden spatula, regret stilling his movements. "Wait, that's not-" A cough clogs the words in his throat.
His lungs burn in response to the unwanted sheet of flour cradling his insides. It trickled down from his hair to his face, eventually collecting in clumps on the wooden floor. "Neat freak my ass," Katsuki says, digging back in the bag of flour to collect another fistful.
Lips quirked in a foreboding grin, Izuku realized another attack would follow. And as if on cue, Katsuki steps forward, menace written all over his boyish expression. Izuku breathes out a shaky laugh. "Hold on!" He tries, hands forging a spell in front of him, hoping it'd cast Katsuki away. "You are!"
"A... neat freak?"
Katsuki scoffs.
"Can't I worry about my boyfriend's health?"
Well, if he puts it that way... He's new to this whole relationship thing, too, okay? He knows Kacchan like the back of his hand, but that doesn't mean he's at all familiar with all his subtle tell tales.
Tell tales of 'care' nonetheless!
Their communication skills weren't perfect, so picking up on signs like these still proved to be mildly difficult. They were getting better at it, though! It just... took some practice, that's all.
Izuku chants a series of threats in trying to get Katsuki to back off. All of it fruitless when an unexpected hand suddenly stands raised above his messied curls. Holding eyecontact, Katsuki grins, and he offers Izuku no warning as flour suddenly drizzles all over him.
Defeated, Izuku relents. His shoulders sag with the small piles of white weighing them down, growing larger and larger in a seemingly endless drizzle of baked snow.
He peers through flour coated eyelashes, where he finds a shit-eating grin.
A fire brews inside of him, and his heart pounds in his chest with an impulsive idea raising to a bulb above his head as he grabs Katsuki by his arm. Red eyes regard him with interest, and for a moment, Katsuki does nothing to stop Izuku as he's shoved against the counter.
Pinning Katsuki between him and the cabinet, Izuku reaches around him in a swift movement. Wooden, red doors clatter upon impact, focring Katsuki to grasp at the counter in a firm grip as he looks up at Izuku's mischievous face with curious anticipation.
He follows Izuku's wandering eyes; green leading and landing on something behind him. He looks at Katsuki then and smiles innocently. "You wouldn't."
"Don't tempt me."
"I'll blow you up."
"Your way of punishment being my pleasure is a little strange, Kacchan."
"Not in.. 'that' way, you freak."
Izuku presses his weight further onto Katsuki as the aged counter, rough, and worn from the use of previous cabin inhabitants, digs into his lower back. A slight pop sounded, and Izuku made a mental note to give him a deserved massage later.
Now, he has something else in mind.
Suddenly, Katsuki slackens in his slouched position as Izuku's lips encapsule his in a bittersweet kiss. No, literally, the flour was bitter and gross, but Kacchan... Kacchan was always sweet. Addicting like those sweeteners known to be awful for your health.
Except he wasn't.
Izuku has never felt so whole, so healthy and happy as he does now. With Kacchan. A pure sweetness, none of that artificial trash. And the kiss, oh, the kiss is everything. Tender and sweet and soft and addictive.
"Kacchan is so soft." He whispers, inhaling an uneven breath.
Kissing Kacchan was... eye-opening, world tethering. He wishes he could kiss him forever, to be lost in the gentle touches and his dizzying scent.
However, duty calls.
Revenge knocking on the door.
The tin bowl has 'Kacchan' written all over it. Popping air bubbles as they arise to the surface chant his name.
And Izuku has a goal.
Breaking their kiss with a wet pop, Katsuki sounded his disappointment in a hummed whine. But as soon as realisation hit, it didn't take long for his eyes to widen and his mouth to open in a failed retort when Izuku was quick to interject.
"Not a neat freak, huh?"
Izuku beams a devilish grin, eyes speaking of mischief. Katsuki scowls and tightens his grip on the counter behind him. "I'll blow you for real, 'Zu. This is a warning." With an eyebrow raised, Izuku hums a sound of false, surprised intrigue.
"Be careful of your phrasing, Kacchan."
"You're only spurring me on, you know that, right?" Izuku slurs, and Katsuki watches from side to side at the flex of his biceps signalling movement.
"Izuku."
"Admit it, Kacchan. You are a neat freak." He made sure to apply emphasis to 'are', liked how it evoked the twitching of Katsuki's eyebrow as a result of his cocky playfulness.
Silence.
Kacchan was contemplating.
The screws behind his intense eyes twisting and turning in a battle to admit defeat. And when those same eyes roll into the back of his head with a deep, agitated groan, Izuku barks a laugh.
"Fine, you win," he drawls out, releasing his grip on the counter to reach for Izuku's arm instead.
A popped sizzle sparks from his palms, not at all painful, but a threat nonetheless. Izuku barks a laugh, bowl still raised above Katsuki's head. "Now drop it, asshole."
"What did I say about phrasi-"
"Fucking-hell-Izuku!" One breath, okay. A signal for his play to come to an end, his shoulders shake to the tune of his gleeful chuckles. "Fine," Izuku says.
Suddenly, with the forward tilt of his head, a flock of flour slides down in a perfect landing on top of his nose. And just as he inhales a chuckle, bits of the tiny ball their way inside. The chuckles falter, his nose scrunching on instinct.
Shit.
Face contorted into a grimace of discomfort, his eyes water at the foreboding storm pushing its way up his nose. Izuku turns his head to the side just in time. And he realizes too late that the bowl of raw batter is still hovering in place; right above Katsuki's head.
In his swift response, Izuku succeeds in muffling a sneeze into his arm; not at all realizing that with the jerk of his shoulder, the batter spilt all over the cabinets, between the cracks of the wooden floor, even on his own shirt, and to make matters worse; all over a deeply unimpressed Katsuki.
"Shit, Kacchan." He rarely curses, but the sudden guilt renders his mind to a blank. Katsuki 'is' a neat freak, and Izuku knows it, fuck he knows! Kacchan will be so mad, he's not saying anything now, his shoulders are shaking, oh, he'll never want to bake again, he'll-
Ugly.
Loud.
Katsuki's laughter was ugly and loud, childlike, boyish, and fun. Coursing through him as the highs and lows tenderly brush his senses. The sound clasps around his heart, cradling him in a feeling so raw and overwhelming and deep that it chokes him up. Fear forgotten and replaced by fondness for the joyful sounds he'd caused.
Izuku's heart swells inside of his chest, pushing at the barricade of his ribs, leaving them in a dulled throb, and- oh, he's truly beyond saving.
"Calm down, idiot."
Izuku smiled crookedly, tilting his head. "Not mad?"
Katsuki flicks him across his forehead, his head bouncing backwards from the impact. "Stop thinking of me like that." Izuku rubs at the sore spot and smiles beside himself at the lingering sting of affection.
"I tolerate you more than I let on," He eyes him up and down, "you handsome jerk."
"Besides," eyes back on Izuku's as if to properly translate his honesty, Katsuki swipes a finger across his batter smudged cheek, "tasted shit, anyway."
Izuku gasps, "Oh, c'mon. I followed the instructions!" Which he did, he followed them down to a 'T' with utmost care and calculations.
"Don't believe me?"
Fine, he'll see it for himself. Izuku lessens their distance as he cusps one side of Katsuki's jaw, a cloth in his hand as he wipes off the excess batter off his brows. His lips. He stops and stares for a moment before flicking his gaze upwards.
"Taste it for yourself."
"You're so cheeky, Kacchan."
"You're so distrusting, 'Zu."
Izuku rolls his eyes and, with his hand holding the cloth, tilts Katsuki's jaw upwards for their lips to meet in a chaste peck. He leans away, licks his lips, and ponders over the bitterness.
The ugly pull of his face he then sports must look ghastly and absolutely idiotic if the smug tug of Katsuki's lips indicates as much.
"But the recipe-"
"The recipe is ass. Next time, I'll show you how it's done." Izuku wipes away at the shell of Katsuki's ear, down his neck, his shoulders, but there's still so much. The dirtied cloth only worked to spread the substance, so he went to retrieve a new one.
Izuku bends down to rummage through the cabinet opposite Katsuki. "Couldn't you have said so earlier." It's true. They had been struggling with picking out the right ingredients. The recipe simply too outdated to find a perfect fit.
New cloth in hand, Izuku hoists himself up to reclaim his previous position. "You were so persistent." Katsuki says, closing his right eye as Izuku gently smooths away the clumps of his lashes. Dang, this batter really did get everywhere.
The cleaning company will have a field day with this one.
"And since when has my stubbornness ever stopped you?"
Katsuki closes his eyes again when Izuku wipes away the clumps on his brows. "Give me a break. you can be such a little shit, 'Zu. And I'm," he waves a gesture over his mess of an appearance, "tired."
"You'll never tire of me, though." He teases. Katsuki groans, "Watch me." But the lopsided and low effort grin told Izuku all he needed to know. This. Them. They're forever.
Pushing their foreheads together, Izuku sighs. "You smell like eggs." Katsuki breathes a laugh, "Terrific observation skills, nerd," and slithers out of the cocoon of Izuku's body. Leaving him to watch as Katsuki struggles to untie the knot of the apron.
So many years since the injury he'd gotten when his body moved instinctively, on its own, yet Katsuki's shoulder seemed to only worsen with time. It filled Izuku with guilt, remembering how it was him who'd been the object of his injury, but none of his pity would do either of them any good.
There are other ways he can lift the weight off his shoulders. Literally.
,ust like he was doing now, standing behind Katsuki and fiddling with the unnecessary tight straps of the apron. Izuku grunts a little whilst pushing and pulling at the stubborn knot until then, finally, the fabric relents.
And when Katsuki glances over his shoulder, Izuku chases an opportunity as he presses a quick kiss against the linear scar of his cheek. "Well," Izuku breathes, guiding the apron over Katsuki's head and placing a hit on his ass to hurry him forward. "Go, go!! I'll clean up here."
"I trust you will." He pauses at the door and fakes a sneer Izuku's way, "Don't you think you can fix this mess by trying out a different recipe. We'll head into town for a proper cake later." Izuku laughs, "Alright. Don't clog the drain with those shells in your hair."
Katsuki flips him the bird.
"I'll get back at you." He then shouts from the hallway, dangerous, ominous, exciting and thrilling, and it's perfect. He wouldn't have it, this, them any other way.
Smilling fondly, Izuku rubs away at the mess on the floor.
That is until the tissues grow soggy and gross in his grasp as cold and slimy batter spills over his hands.
His face paints a grimace, and yet he is sure to find himself doing this a million times over.
To see Katsuki smile, bearing witness to his happiness, was rewarding in the sense that it proved they'd at last gotten everything they'd ever wanted. Even if realizing such a truth hadn't come easily, Izuku would find ways like these to do it a million times over again.
Or, well, he'd have to find better ways because cleaning dried batter from a wooden floor proved to work his nerves in a way he hadn't expected. What a damn pain!
Enraged, Izuku groans, scrubbing away at a particularly nasty spot as he allows himself to grieve the situation. He then sorrowfully thinks of everything that could've been. Rather than cleaning up the stubborn remains of raw eggs, he'd be much more content on the couch with Kacchan at his side as the smell of cake rising in the oven wafts through the air.
But alas. His karma was stingy and messy.
So...
Baking.
Perhaps not his strongest suit.
"It's best to leave it up to Kacchan from now on."
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