Chapter Text
Downtown bustled with eager shoppers looking to get a head start on gifts for loved ones. Bright lights danced between green and red, laced intricately across buildings and trees. Chilled air did nothing but bring new and old couples alike sweetly bundled together, basking in each other's warmth.
Katsuki Bakugou decidedly did not have time for this merry and bright bullshit. He had places to be, deadlines to meet, and these extras needed to get the fuck out of the road.
This time of year was a blessing and a curse. His business was, thankfully, busy as hell, and regrettably, busy as hell. Cons outweighed the pros. The colorful lights seared his vision, a blurred nightmare when you had an astigmatism. People’s dopey grins and love-addled brains distracted them from keeping their fucking heads on straight. Despite his income being heavily reliant on consumerism, he found himself bitter at the thought of mindless drones buying useless items to gift to shitty in-laws. No doubt the junk would end up in a landfill before the end of the year.
Yes, Katsuki found the holiday season— Christmas time— a stain in his already busy year. He gave no fucks, and had zero time for it. His time was better spent building the existing fashion empire his parents had started decades ago. Perfectionism was a requirement, not a preference. Newly appointed as a nepo-baby CEO, he had to prove himself tenfold if he wanted to be taken seriously by his cohorts and competition. Katsuki considered himself the best and strove to prove the fucking extras in his industry wrong. Being born to the privilege of overtaking his parents’ business meant the burden and obligation to take what was already great, and make it better. He wasn’t going to be some pillow princess and lay back in his parents’ success. The company wouldn’t last with that attitude.
So the holiday season could kiss his ass. He had more important things to worry about.
Like getting to the office on time. Being the boss meant he had an example to set to his workers. He couldn’t roll up late, so they sure as fuck weren’t allowed. He couldn’t slack off during the holiday, so neither could they.
God it’s still barely Thanksgiving, these fucks. Gaudy decorations were plastered on every object in the square. People were already in the Christmas spirit before it even pulled itself from its yearly grave. Ugh.
Just in the nick of time, he beat the morning rush hour to get into the office. The elevator was his last battle. Agonizingly, it jolted its way up with different stops in between, bringing him to the peak floor of the skyrise building. He glared at resident workers from different floors for disrupting his ride to the top.
His workers were bustling about, nose deep in the final stretch of editing before their full catalog of designs were released to the public. Working as they should be. Inventory was already shipped to designer shops, and advertising needed to be out asap to properly catch the boom of consumers during the winter season.
“Kacchan! Running a bit late today? I have your coffee ready and some proofs to look in your office! I can take your coat if you’d like?”
Ever the chipper asshole, his intern, Izuku Midoriya, shot him an award winning smile. A line etched itself between Katsuki’s brows.
“Don’t fucking call me that, Deku. It’s Bakugou, how many goddamn times do I need to tell you this shit?” Even his friends from high school that he’d begrudgingly (yet biasedly) hired into the company were forced to call him by his last name (no honorifics, it made him feel like his old man, eugh). The boss swearing like a sailor didn’t stop him from insisting upon a (decently) professional environment.
He didn’t even know where the stupid intern got the audacity from to call him that. Perhaps listening in on one too many phone calls with his parents and their new ward, Eri, made him think he had some special privilege to the nickname.
Joke’s on him, though. The damn brat barely got away with calling him it. But his parents hemmed and hawed about ‘treat her nicely’ and ‘it shows she’s comfortable around you!’ and blah blah blah. In entrusting the company to their heir and on the road to an early retirement, they found themselves volunteering in various foster programs. First it was a slew of cats and dogs, before finally settling into the heartier battle of caring for troubled kids. Their first ward, Eri, had seen hell in six measly years of life. Trauma was a bitch even for adults, so anyone with a shred of empathy could feel their heart strings tugging for the young girl’s circumstances. About a year into the foster program with his parents, the squirt finally blossomed into something bright and cheery in contrast to her depressing past.
And holy hell, his parents were living for spoiling the kid. Her stay with them wasn’t without reasonable discipline, of course, but she was too damn sweet to really give them a run for their money. Unlike Katsuki as a kid, naturally. Watching the three interact left a bitterness that coated his tongue, sticky and incessant. Mortifying, really, so he willed the thought away, as per usual. He was pushing thirty, for fuck’s sake. This was not jealousy, not of a fucking seven year-old who deserved the world, moon, and stars.
By the time he’d gotten to his office and peeled his coat off, he’d thoroughly ruminated on his buried issues to last him a full year. Katsuki Bakugou didn’t do feelings. Enough was enough, and it was time to get to work. His mood had soured the moment Izuku thought to mention that he was a bit late compared to normal. The lukewarm coffee he brought to his lips sent him over the edge.
“Eugh, goddammit, shit’s already cold—” Katsuki lamented loud enough for his Izuku-shaped shadow to hear.
“O-Oh! I’m so sorry Ka–Bakugou, um… I’ll make you a new one!” Tugging the mug with far too much voracity, Izuku let droplets of coffee splatter to the floor. “Um… and I’ll grab napkins… Sorry….”
“Idiot, just nuke it in the microwave. And don’t fucking spill it everywhere.”
“R-right…!” His mop of curly green hair bounced as he scampered out the door.
He wasn’t about to make the dumbass try and remake the damn coffee, though— the green-haired man had just learned how to properly make it the way Katsuki liked. The dipshit didn’t even know how to use the microwave when he was first hired in about a month ago, let alone the damn coffee machine. Or the printer. Or the company-supplied tablets.
His shitty nickname of ‘Deku’ for the man really fit— the guy was practically useless.
It was wild, really. Izuku acted as if he’d just been dumped onto this earth recently, a baby deer struggling in its first hours of life to walk on spindly legs. He needed help with everything, and it grinded on Katsuki’s nerves to no end. Firing the dumbass would have been the smart move; he didn’t need to waste his time training an intern to do something as simple as make a cup of coffee. But his friends-turned-employees insisted that he’d catch on. That bright and cheery disposition lit the whole office space up. And well, the guy wasn’t terrible to look at, not that it held much weight in keeping him hired: enticing emerald eyes, adorable freckles smattering his cheeks, and a decently toned figure. Although, he dressed horrendously for someone working at a fashion company. His clothes looked to be from the lost and found— often mismatching, worn down, and ill-fitting. He’d seemed to pull clothes from the 20th century exclusively, from the eighties to the shit he was sure was in his grandfather's closet.
Despite the many red flags and woefully under-qualified resume, Katsuki couldn’t bring himself to get rid of the guy. Hell, his memories as to why he’d hired the guy were hazy at best. Was he hungover or something? Who knew. Somehow, though, the freckled man was there to stay— despite the fact Katsuki’d gotten mad enough, multiple times, to have the words ‘you’re fired’ on the tip of his tongue. Every time, the words just…. hung there, caught behind his teeth.
Izuku reappeared, carefully setting down a now steaming mug of coffee. He’d already knelt, napkins in hand, to wipe the clumsy spill from the floor, mentioning, “Oh, um, I meant to tell you that your mother called earlier.” Goddamnit. “She wanted to know what time you’d like to come over for dinner tomorrow?”
A glance to the calendar on his desk, marked up and color coded to high heaven. Ah shit, Thanksgiving already? “Don’t know why the hag doesn’t just text—”
“Oh she mentioned that she did, and, ehem, I quote,” he stood up and reached for his shitty notebook he was always scribbling in, reading off, “‘the damn brat never answers his f-ing phone, so tell him to call me once he gets his ungrateful ass in the office.’” The intern looked particularly flushed having to repeat his mother’s brash words.
With a groan, Katsuki shoved his face in his hands, “Ugh— Fine, I’ll get to it later.” It was mortifying to get scolded by his mom, via his fucking intern, who looked no older than twenty, adding insult to injury. “I don’t have time for that shit, anyways. Gotta get these fucking ad layouts out…..” he grumbled.
Izuku caught it and sputtered, “But it’s important to spend time with family! Especially during the holidays! I’m sure they miss you, don’t they?”
He wrinkled his nose, hand running through his spiky, blonde hair, “I’m sure they’ll miss their fat paycheck more if I don’t get this shit out asap.” Time with their bristly son was nothing compared to their residual percentage cuts of company profits.
Chewing his lip, Izuku murmured, “I’m sure that’s not true….” A glare that could freeze hell over stopped the intern’s further prying.
“Don’t butt into my business. Do your fucking job.” Everyone in the office was used to Katsuki’s snapping, and Izuku was no exception.
“Of course, s-sorry Bakugou….” He slunk out the door, looking pathetically defeated with slumped shoulders. Goddammit, why did he have to look so fucking pitiful. Shit wasn’t even his business!
Sighing, Katsuki picked up the landline at his desk, dialing the memorized number of his mother’s cellphone.
-----------------------------------
On Thanksgiving, he resigned himself to an early day for himself and his workers. They heaved sighs of relief at the idea of catching the tail end of family get-togethers. Whatever. Fuck if he cared.
Standing in front of his childhood house, he noted the various lights meticulously strung across the roof. No doubt the hag barked his old man up a ladder to hang them. Ghastly plastic candy canes lined the walkway, reaching knee height. Obnoxious cartoon reindeer lit up and mocked him with their dopey smiles and lifeless eyes. Waste of an electric bill, in his opinion. His heart clenched at the poorly cut-out paper angels and snowflakes taped from inside the window. Courtesy of Eri.
Well, all of this was courtesy of their foster child. Katsuki couldn’t remember his parents giving two shits about decorating. Growing up, holiday decorations were ‘gauche’ and a ‘waste of money to buy and a waste of time to set up and take down.’
He shuffled inside, savoring the temperature shift on his chilled cheeks. The hallway was bathed in a warm glow as he hung up his coat and shucked off his shoes. Giggles echoed from further into the home. His shoulders tensed.
He found himself rigidly hovering at the entrance of the living room. His father held a giggling Eri up to the tippy top of a freshly decorated pine tree. She placed a horrendous looking home-made angel on its peak.
“Oi, brat! Don’t just stand there, help me set the table!” His old hag’s voice rang shrill across the room. Before he could think of snapping something back, Eri’s focus turned to him and she wiggled frantically out of his father’s grip.
“Kacchan! You’re here!” Her excitement stunned him in place. Leaning down, he caught her bounding form in a stiff, awkward side hug. She didn’t seem to mind the hesitance. “Missed you!”
He both doubted and didn’t doubt that, “Been working, kid.”
A hum and a grin, “Kacchan’s always working so hard!”
“Yeah….” Lethargy prodded at the back of his mind. Once again, it was pushed aside.
His dad greeted him with a firm hand to his shoulder and a ‘welcome home,’ before ushering him into the dining room. Enticing smells wafted from the kitchen. The table got set with surprisingly minimal snapping between himself and his mother. Katsuki guessed Eri’s presence had tamed the otherwise batshit witch.
A comfortable amount of food lay on the table. It was only ever the three of them, now four, with extended family across seas. Travel wasn’t usually in the budget, let alone a lavish meal, if Katsuki recalled from his childhood. The tradition stayed as business boomed.
As they settled into their chairs, he was subjected to his folks cooing over Eri. He griped, “So… Couldn’t wait another day to put up decorations?”
His hag shot him a familiar scowl, one he saw in the mirror often enough, “Eri thought it would be nice to put up decorations for your visit, isn’t that right, Eri?” The sweet smile she sent to the seven year-old irked him.
An eager nod from the girl, “Yup! They make me happy, um… I thought Kacchan would like them too?” Her face suddenly fell, unsure. Katsuki bit his cheek to stop a wince. Don’t let that slip, get your shit together, Katsuki—
“Ah, yeah, it’s nice. Thanks, kid.” His words didn’t sound like his own. Ever the poor liar, his tone was stuck in a monotonous drawl. Katsuki didn’t want to (continually) mess this poor kid up with his brutal attitude, prone to telling things as they were.
She bought it for the time being, getting distracted by his parents’ probing with questions of ‘what do you want to do after dinner’ and ‘are you excited for Santa to come visit?’
At that, their ward perked up, eyes sparkling, “Yes! You sent in my letter, right? They got it up at the North Pole, right?”
“Of course!” His mother smiled, lying through her teeth. Katsuki didn’t remember them doing the whole ‘Santa’ bullshit when he was a kid. Brats on the playground talked all about it when he was younger. There was an understanding that presents were gifted to those who were good, though Katsuki got something each year despite being anything but. The amount of gifts conveniently varied based on parents’ income.
“Good! This will be the first time he’s visited me,” her small voice trailed off. The words stung his chest. What a cruel fucking gimmick for those less fortunate.
Voice tight, his mom comforted, “I’m sorry, hun. This year though, we promise he’ll visit.” The softness in her tone was something Katsuki didn’t recognize. He couldn’t remember the last time it had been used for him, if ever at all.
Dinner continued and conversation was kept light. Katsuki stayed quiet, offering small grunts and nods in an attempt to pay attention. Talk fell to the business, as per usual, and his irritation fizzed at the idea they still didn’t trust him to lead the company.
“And the winter line?” His dad pressed after the terse battle Katsuki and his hag had just finished.
“Should already be on shelves, but the magazine layouts are still getting finalized.”
His mother paled, “Sent out before marketing…?! Katsuki, you know advertising before the line hits the shelves creates higher demand and boosts brand status. It was the first thing I told you during your early projects—”
“And I figured getting stock on shelves would do nothing but good, even if marketing got put on the back burner because of it.” Wine red eyes glared back at his mom’s matching set, “I wanted to catch early holiday consumers. Fans of the brand will have plenty of time to grab their fill. There’s enough inventory. Production got upped to compensate for the early release.”
A sigh, “Yes, and more product without consumers knowing it’s there means the line will get stuck on some clearance rack soon enough—”
Slamming his fist on the table, the plates and silverware gave a grating clank, “Well if you think I’m doing it all wrong, why’d you give me the damn company?!”
“Tone it down, Katsuki,” his father warned firmly. A hand hovered near Eri’s side of the table as her eyes grew wide with tears. Ah fuck. He grumbled a ‘sorry’ aimed at Eri’s small, petrified form. Having the decency to clean up after himself, he grabbed his plate and shuffled into the kitchen. He spoke a bit louder over the running water, “Going back into the office tonight. Proofs should be finished and sent in before the weekend.” More shuffling as he attempted to escape towards the hallway. “Thanks for the meal.” His voice was cold, but the room suddenly felt too damn hot. Anger still boiled under his skin, but he kept it at bay. He was a goddamned adult, he should’ve known to keep his cool. Eri deserved the very least. This was her home, not his. She deserved to feel comfortable.
“You’re not staying…?” Eri’s small voice sounded terribly pitiful. Katsuki didn’t understand why, despite her past, she’d grown attached to him— ever the hot-head.
“...Gotta work.” More of the same excuse, an easy out from his slowly rising discomfort as the night progressed. He was a stranger intruding on a family’s nice dinner, and wanted to stop bothering them.
“Katsuki….” His mother stood, taking a couple steps towards him before pausing— hesitant, as if afraid to frighten a cornered animal. “Visit more often, won’t you? I don’t want to have to drag you here just for holidays.”
“....Yeah.” A hollow promise. Slipping on his shoes and coat, he disappeared into the night, an exorcised ghost no longer welcome to haunt.
Back to the office, then.
A migraine bloomed at the front of his skull. No time for that bullshit. Pills got thrown back and dry swallowed as he navigated downtown’s one-way streets. His eyes were fighting to stay open, an unusual amount of exhaustion, but Katsuki was nothing but stubborn and suddenly wanted the stupid layouts finished immediately out of spite.
By now, the office building was dead quiet. No one in their right mind would be here this late, let alone on a holiday. The elevator dinged as he reached the top floor.
He’d expected the lights to be off, the air to be still, and the floor blissfully empty.
Not… Not whatever the hell this chaos of sparkling gold, silver, red and green was.
Really, Katsuki would have been impressed if he wasn’t so fucking pissed at the monstrosity of colors scorching his retinas. The amount of Christmas decor littered about the room rivaled that of a HomeGoods two weeks into October. Tinsel, ornaments, fucking pine needles left no surface untouched. Just…. Everywhere , not even purposefully placed. As if forgotten storage bins from the attics of every grandmother’s house just upchucked all over the once pristine office.
Before he could think of letting out an unholy screech of fury, rustling from further into the office, followed by a crash, grabbed his focus.
A familiar voice huffed out, “Okay, you don’t have to throw a fit! The nuts and berries were first come first serve, you should have known the others would snorkel it up! I can get your share when we get back—”
More rustling, chittering, and the sound of a stack of papers fluttering to the floor. He grit his teeth, practically stomping around the corner of a desk.
Izuku was kneeling on all fours, head tilted at an uncomfortable angle as he searched underneath the gap between the floor and cabinets. His curly hair fell towards the floor, and the green locks that normally covered his ears were tucked behind them.
Did he have… some sort of pointed ear on as a prosthetic…? The fuck?
Whatever. The guy clearly had a hard-on for Christmas shit, given the decor strewn about the room. Maybe it was some roleplay crap. But why on god’s green fucking earth did the bastard think do pull this at the office…!?
“Deku….. ” It came out as a growl. He’d be puffing out smoke from between his clenched teeth if possible.
An ‘eep’ as the idiot practically jumped out of his skin, hitting his head with an audible thunk against the bottom of the desk. Wide green eyes met narrowed red.
“Kac—ah—Bakugou…. U-uhm…. You’re back! A-and here at such a late hour….” Anxiety sprung freely from the intern’s face. Good, he should be fucking scared. The waning migraine had come back with a burning vengeance, scorching him from the inside out. What little patience he usually had (slim to fucking none) had long become cinders.
“Could say the same for you, Deku. Now…” His hand gripped the side of the desk, knuckles white. Izuku was still glued to the floor, watching in apt horror, as Katsuki loomed over him. “I’m giving you the chance to explain why the fuck the office is in disarray, and why everyone’s work is buried under goddamned tinsel.”
There were tears threatening the corners of Izuku’s eyes. His freckled face flushed and his hands waved wildly as he sputtered, “I— Um— It wasn’t— I wasn’t— I thought I’d stay to clean—”
“Funny way of cleaning, Deku—”
“R-really! I was! But—a—” Scrambling, Izuku became a mumbling mess of incoherently strung-together words, “I was decorating too! But I should have asked, and I made more of a mess trying to do that. I’ll clean it up I swear—” Rustling came from a few rows down. A lonely swivel chair notably spun. Katsuki’s eyes trained at the area.
Izuku’s gaze followed his, supplying a panicked, “A pigeon! A pigeon flew in! I opened the window for fresh air, and a pigeon flew in! I’ve been trying to grab it, aha…. ehm…. I should just call pest control. You’re right to be mad Kaccha— Bakugou…! I promise I can take care of this—”
“.... Deku….”
“Y-yes?”
“It’s a skyrise. The windows don’t open, dumbass.”
“O-oh….”
Yeah, ‘oh.’ Katsuki had no idea why the intern would so blatantly lie to his face. He was trying to muster up as professional of words as possible to tell the bastard to get out and not come back, when something brushed at the side of his ankle.
Glancing down, he let out an embarrassingly high ‘oh shit’ and stumbled, jabbing his hip on the edge of the desk.
Something scurried its way past him and under another desk’s wide gap, disappearing into the shadows. Whatever he saw was decidedly not furry or feathered, and uncannily bipedal before it shimmied under the furniture. Unless New York rats suddenly had a bark-like texture, and learned to walk on two legs, Katsuki doubted what the hell he just witnessed. Maybe they were dealing with ‘Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles’ levels of rats— The ‘pollution has reached an all-time high and mankind must face its hubris as a consequence’ levels of rats.
“The fuck was….” Katsuki trailed off as a wave of vertigo forced his attention.
“I—I can… I’m…..” Izuku sounded thoroughly defeated. Laying bare before him was someone broken, head in his hands and curled in on himself. Something choked— the beginning of a heart-wrenching sob— ripped from his throat, “I’m… ugh , I can’t believe I’m this useless…..” The claim reached deeper, something more self-loathing than simply making a mess in the office or openly lying to your boss.
Shaky breaths brought the creature tentatively out of its hiding spot with frantic squeaks. Katsuki watched in silent alarm as something decidedly not from this world, scurried over and held small spindly hands to Izuku’s arm.
He didn’t… he didn’t quite know what he was looking at. It was something Lovecraft shat out into porcelain. The best he could do was a creature akin to the nerdy game Denki and Eijiro insisted he play with them back in high school: an imp, lacking the wings, tails, and horns. It had near human proportions on a smaller scale, but its limbs reached longer and set off the ‘uncanny valley’ sirens in his head. There were no discernible features on its smooth face, other than vertical slits seemingly carved into its bark-like skin. No mouth, so he had no idea how it was making those chirping sounds. What he originally thought was hair like a troll doll was a collection of pine needles poking from its head.
Izuku finally looked out from his hands, catching a glimpse of the creature at his side. Instead of panic, his gaze softened at the sight, before immediately whipping to Katsuki in horror. The silent stand off between them stretched for far longer than it should have. Neither dared to break it.
“Deku….” He swallowed the lump in his throat “......What the fuck am I looking at.”
The green-haired man bit his lip, eyes darting between Katsuki and teeny beast. He seemed to be weighing his options, before admitting, “I-it…. It’s a hob….”
“Uh huh…..” ‘A hob’ rang no bells, answering none of his baffled questions. The room felt like it was spinning again. He squeezed his eyes shut. “And mind telling me what kinda fuckin’ drugs I’m on, Deku….?”
The only thing he could recall taking were pain killers. Unless they were laced with some heavy shit, Katsuki doubted those were enough for him to be seeing things. Maybe a fever dream….
His limbs suddenly felt heavy. The spinning room kept turning no matter how many times he pinched his eyes shut. Heat from earlier in the evening left him shivering in a chill of cold sweat.
“Bakugou…? You’re looking pale…. Are you feeling alright…?” Black dots cluttered his vision. He was shaking like a leaf. “Oh gosh, don’t pass out…! Kacchan!”
Form slumping, he fell unconscious.
Blearily, Katsuki opened his eyes to the familiar sight of his bedroom’s ceiling. He was tucked neatly under the covers of his bed, sweat dried on silken sheets.
A groan. His head thrummed and his body felt like lead. What a weird fucking dream.
Hesitantly, he shifted himself into a sitting position, ignoring the dizziness. He didn’t even remember getting home and crawling into bed. What time was it? What year was it? Fresh stress suplexed his gut.
His suit jacket and button up got discarded on his dresser. He was left in his socks and slacks. Dammit, he’d have to get them pressed again. How was he so tired he barely got out of his damn clothes before passing out?
God, he was really sick, wasn’t he? He didn’t have fucking time for this shit.
His body protested as he hobbled out of bed. Ignoring the vertigo, he shuffled to the door.
Normally, his apartment was all cool greys and sleek with a modern touch. But apparently, the unholy conglomeration of decor had manifested from his nightmare and found itself in the waking world. An open concept, now a vast sheen of glittering metallics and vibrant reds and greens that spanned wall to wall. In the midst of it all stood Izuku at his kitchen’s island counter, laser focused on a company-supplied tablet, his signature notebook open and within reach to his side. Those funky little spindly creatures scuttled around the hardwood in the corner of his eye.
……Yeah that wasn’t a dream. God. Fucking. Dammit.
He must have hissed it out loud, since Izuku’s face whipped up.
“Oh! Kacchan! You’re awake! You really should go back to sleep, though… It’s still late… And you were running quite the fever…. Freaked me out a bit when you passed out so suddenly!” The intern’s tone was light and expression soft. “I’ll update everyone at the office in the morning, and I’ve already adjusted your schedule, so no need to worry! Just focus on getting better—”
By now, the green-haired man had made his way over, minding his step as the little creatures— ‘hobs’ he’d called them— scampered about with shiny ornaments half their size.
Before Izuku could coax him back into his room, Katsuki grabbed the collar of the intern’s ghastly billowed sweater, snarling, “You’re going to tell me what the fuck is going on, and then you’re going to get the fuck out of my apartment. How’d you even know where I live?! How’d we even get back from—oh goddammit, you didn’t drive my fucking car here did you? You undressed me?! Just who the hell do you think you are!? Have a fucking death wish, hah?!”
Izuku paled and held his hands up in surrender, “I—you gave me the address when I dropped off your dry-cleaning? I-it was still in my notebook...” Alright, that was his mistake for forgetting the weirdo religiously wrote anything and everything in that damned notebook. Everything else was stammered out in a near incoherent mess, “A-and you were passed out cold and I know it was really inappropriate to mess with your clothes— but I knew you’d be so mad to get them all gross and sweaty and— well you were really sweaty….. and heavy as dead-weight— I mean, i-it makes sense and it’s not a bad thing, though! You’re very fit, ehm, I’m sure it’s all muscle. Er— great job on that, by the way! It takes a lot to maintain and— oh no I sound more creepy, don’t I?” Shaking his head at himself, he slapped his freckled cheeks with a ‘get it together, Izuku!’ before taking a deep breath.
“Your car is safe and sound at the office. As for how I got us here… Eh I… Uh….. That’s…. Harder to explain. I-I know this seems weird and, I-I mean.. It is but— please, just sit down for a minute? I’ll… I’ll explain everything….”
As pissed as he was for the invasion of privacy, his morbid curiosity as to what the fuck was going on with those wonky looking lovecraftian troll dolls got the better of him. Reluctantly, he stomped behind Izuku towards the couch.
Silence stretched between the two of them as they settled. Katsuki pointedly ignored the tippy taps of hobs on the floor in hopes Izuku would get the balls to fess up.
“Well… uh….. Where to start—”
“For starters,” he leaned over, pulling at one of the freckled man’s pointed ears, “What the fuck is this cosplay shit? The glue on this must be a bitch to get off.” With each tug, Izuku winced. Finally, his hands were batted away.
“They’re real and that hurts! Quit it!” His cheeks puffed out with a pout. “That’s just how my ears look ‘cause I’m... well… I’m not human. I’m… um… I’m an elf?”
“....An elf ….”
“Yes… um, I’m under the impression humans have mythos about us tied to Christmas? It makes sense. We don’t make toys or anything, but we do act under the guidance of a powerful, magical being to offer comfort and joy to kids. At least that’s accurate. It’s the closest explanation humans have for what we are and our purpose. It’s gotten a bit, eh… lost in translation over the millenia….”
Izuku squirmed under Katsuki’s deadpan stare. A goddamned Christmas elf. That was what he was going with? The blonde was so fucking done.
“...Right , and the late queen of England’s spirit has manifested in my left testicle, vicariously making me the true sovereign. What kind of shit is this, Deku?”
“Ew—Kacchan— Wait, she died?” The rest came out as a mumble, “I can’t believe she died… How long’s it been since we had to check in with Parliament? Gosh…. Before the injury so… ten years minimum? Hmm. Time flies. She seemed nice when I met her, I guess. The corgis were really cute—”
“Okay, now you’re really fucking with me, Deku. This is seriously pissing me off. Don’t blatantly lie to my face—”
“I’m not, it’s the truth!”
His hand ran down the span of his face, “Ok, fine, let’s say you’re a stupid fucking Christmas elf in the sweat shop that’s Santa’s workshop—”
“That’s not—”
“Tell me why, in the ever loving fuck, are you playing pretend as a goddamned intern…?! Do you not have better shit to do…?!”
Izuku bit his lip, fingers fiddling over each other in his lap. “It’s…. complicated, but…. I should first explain that our jobs as elves are to offer resolutions and protection to those most vulnerable in the world. We largely work with children as a result, and our purpose is to not only remove them from terrible circumstances, but offer up gifts and wishes as a sort-of karmic balance.
Rarely, it’s as simple as a toy. Most of the time, and given the children we help, it’s more esoteric. There are rules of course, nothing too large-scale or with sinister intentions.”
Ok, not the lie he was expecting. And not close to the whole ‘Santa’s workshop elves’ that he’d remembered from childhood movies. It sounded more like the whackadoo, magical version of CPS. His jaw would be on the floor if he believed a fucking word of it.
Nevertheless, Katsuki continued to humor him, “As heroic as all that shit sounds, still not grasping what it has to do with my family’s company.”
A sigh, before Izuku pulled out his hideous, muted green leather backpack that had been tucked by the armrest of the couch. The sheer amount of abuse the thing had clearly suffered made Katsuki wonder if the intern ever owned anything first-hand. He reached an arm in, far too deep for what should have been physically possible, and reemerged with a rolled up piece of paper.
“It’s… It’s Eri. Your parents’ foster child? She had a request. I was sent to fulfill it.”
Hesitantly, he reached out to grab the paper, unrolling it. It was one of those shitty fill-in-the-blank Christmas wish-list pages from the mall, festive clip-art littering the corners. The handwriting was familiar enough from what he’d seen on stray writing-practice sheets strewn about the house. Eri’s for sure, woefully behind kids her age— undoubtedly from previous neglect— but legible despite the misspellings:
‘Dear Mr. Santa,
I am having such a fun time with the Bakugous. I am very happy they are taking care of me! I don’t know what I would ask for since I am very happy already!
They have a son Kacchan. He is a big kid in charge of their company. He works all the time. He frowns a lot. I feel bad that he is sad. I think he should be happy too! Please help him be happy. I think he works very hard and I want my gift to be for him. We love him very much and I want him to smile more.
Thank you, Mr. Santa!
Love Eri’
His heart was squeezed in the tightest fucking knot. The paper shook in his hands. Teeth clenched hard enough on his inner cheek to taste copper. Ruby eyes grew watery despite his protests.
God of course the kid would be affected by his piss-poor attitude. Surely, she’d grown up in a space where it was a survival tactic to keep track of the adults’ moods. And of course, his was the worst hands down.
It hurt. He was an adult, he was supposed to keep a handle on his shitty mood around the squirt. Here she was, wasting concern on his garbage disposition.
He wanted to burst into hysterical laughter. Or cry. Or scream. The last option was usually his go-to. So anger it was, boiling over on the stove top.
Where the fuck had Izuku gotten this shit? What the fuck was he doing, butting into his life— his family’s life?! And with some stupid, vague charity act of making him fucking happy?! A goddamned joke. All of this was some sick joke.
“Kacchan…? You read it, right? I, um… I joined the company to see what might make you happy—”
“.....Deku—”
“—But I feel like it might be more effective to just come out and explain everything. We can work together on this—”
“— Deku —”
“—and that way, I can get out of your hair! I’ll only be here as long as the promise has yet to be fulfilled. So the quicker we find what can help you be happy, the better!”
“—Deku, shut up for a seco—agh FUCK! ” During Izuku’s rambling, and in Katsuki’s attempt to pull his attention, one of those stupid hobs snuck up to his side to yank at a particularly sensitive piece of jewelry on his person.
Right, his shirt was off. While Katsuki usually prided himself on his physique and held no shame in flaunting it, he was a bit pissed the fuck off that some goddamned Christmas goblin thought it the perfect opportunity to tug at one of his nipple piercings… in hopes of using it as makeshift decor… or something.
(Look, it was eighteen-year-old Katsuki’s way of rebelling, the piercings hurt like a bitch, and he wasn’t getting rid of them if they weren’t rejecting, even a decade later. Eat shit, old hag, he had some of the dreaded piercings she hated oh so much.)
“Ack! I’m so sorry ! Bad hob! You can’t use that for decorating! I told you guys not to decorate at all!” Izuku jumped up to shoo the creature away. It scuttled away swiftly, seemingly forlorn it couldn’t claim another shiny object. “I’m so so so sorry, they just really like shiny stuff and decorating… Um… If you couldn’t already tell. It’s an especially strong urge as we reach the solstice. Sometimes they clean! But they aren't as used to the indoors, known for being a largely outside sub-species of hob… Um… But I promise they can be really nice companions—”
“...Deku…..” Katsuki was fucking seething by now. The migraine from before hadn’t stopped knocking on the walls of his skull, his shitty intern was spouting nonsense about Christmas elves and blah blah blah, he’d gotten purple fucking nurpled by a species unknown to mankind—
And his heart had gotten ripped out of his goddamned chest by a letter that now sat forgotten on the couch cushions.
“I don’t know what kind of sick fucking joke this shit is, but I’ve had enough. I’m calling the police, the hospital, whoever the fuck will get you out of my goddamned face. That or I’m calling myself in. I’m losing my fucking mind over here….” He’d gotten up to pace like a caged animal, running sweaty palms through spiked blonde hair. Izuku’s hands went up to seemingly tame an unruly beast.
“Kacchan—”
“Bakugou— ”
“Bakugou…. Please, I need to succeed in this mission. It’s a lot to take in and a loaded request, but….” There was a desperation in his eyes that blinded Katsuki. “I’d really rather work with you than against you on this. Fulfilling requests can take years, but we’re running out of time and options. Succession has to happen sooner than we thought, and—”
“‘Succession?’ The fuck you on about?”
Lips pulled taught into a tight line, “It’s…. Complicated….” Word of the fucking day, it would seem. “But essentially… um, well, the one you’d call ‘Santa’— He’s… dying. I’ve been named the next successor, but if I can’t even get through one solo mission—” Izuku groaned, digging his palms into his eyes. “I’ll never be strong enough to inherit his powers. I don’t know if he trusts anyone but me to wield it, at this rate. And if I can’t do it… I’ll just…. I’ll just be as useless as ever… All of my training a waste, a millennia of passed-down magics just… gone, lost forever... .” His voice trailed off into a meek murmur. More incoherent mumbling tumbled from his lips. When his hands fell from his face, the sight was particularly miserable. Just…. Broken. Already given up. It pissed Katsuki off for some ungodly reason.
The reality of the situation was that Katsuki didn’t have time to give two shits about elf politics he barely bought into anyways. He had work to do, and originally, Izuku’s job as intern was to help coordinate that work. Clearly, his head was in some snow bank back at the north fucking pole.
“I’m sure this shit’s super important to you… But I have a company to upkeep. Get a new ‘mission’ or whatever, ‘cause you’re not butting into my or my family’s business. This is beyond invasive. Get your crap and get out. You’re fffffffffff—-” The word ‘fired’ got caught on his tongue. His eye twitched as the syllables stayed locked tight between his lips. A deep breath. “You’re ffffiiiieee—FUCK” And now he was coughing, tears watering at the phrase that refused to leave his throat.
Nothing. He faltered over variations of ‘you’re fired,’ ‘you’re being let go,’ ‘your services are no longer needed.’ Coughing fits ensued, and what looked to be silvery glitter caked in saliva started dribbling from his mouth. Great, unless he deep-throated a tube of fucking glitter-glue in his sleep, he had a sinking feeling this was some magic bullshit.
Izuku was looking increasingly concerned with each of his attempts to speak, and urged him back onto the couch.
“Please stop! I think I know what you’re trying to say, but Hitoshi’s magic is stopping it. It’ll get worse the more you try to get the words out.” He wasn’t wrong. No matter how many times he tried saying it— the moment his voice went to follow his mind’s directions, his throat clamped shut.
Something under his breath, an ‘I told Hitoshi not to add that clause’ and ‘jerk didn’t think I could do it without getting fired.’ Whoever this ‘Hitoshi’ guy was, he certainly wasn’t wrong.
With slumped shoulders, Izuku sighed, “I… I can’t just get a new mission… We don’t pick them, they’re bestowed upon us based on our abilities. Given my condition…..” Biting his lip, he cut himself short. Something unspoken hung in the air before he waved the thought away, “Regardless, once a mission is delivered, we’re bound until it’s fulfilled. I guess I could leave you to fulfill it on your own, but….”
‘We’re running out of time and options—’
So Katsuki was essentially stuck with this fucker for his lifetime, until he fulfilled something as vague as making him ‘happy.’
What a fucking short end of the stick.
Relenting, he let out an exasperated breath, “Your internship was supposed to end by the new year. You have ‘till then to get your shit together, then I want you out of my goddamned life.”
Despite the short timeframe, Izuku’s eyes lit up in hope, “You’ll let me try? Thank you, thank you ! I won’t let you down Kacchan! We’ll find something to make you happy, I’m sure! The holidays keep most humans in a good mood, so it’s perfect timing!” His toothy grin and naivety was grating Katsuki’s nerves, but he bit his tongue, for once.
An eye roll, “Yeah, good fucking luck, Deku. You’ll need it.” His eyes couldn’t help but catch the shimmering decor surrounding him. “Speaking of holidays… Get this shit off my walls. Don’t even know where your stupid House of Horror friends got this garbage anyways….” He sure as hell didn’t own decorations and there were still pine needles littered everywhere. Goddamnit.
“O-oh, of course…. You don’t like it at all…? I think it lightens the place up a bit.” Warmth pooled on the intern’s features. It stirred something in Katsuki that he swiftly pushed aside.
“It’s hideous. Take it down. ‘M going back to sleep if you’re done yapping about hocus pocus shit.” Heavy footfalls stomped across the hardwood. Cupboards clicked open in search of pain medication. His fucking head still throbbed and the long-winded info dump certainly hadn’t helped.
“Ok Kacchan—”
“Bakugou— ”
“R-right. Bakugou, be sure to eat something with the meds! I can stop by tomorrow to give you some office updates. And, um… I can take the decorations down.”
He didn’t want to be coddled, but ever the workaholic, he wanted reports on the status of those stupid advertisements. The objection died on his tongue.
Izuku hopped up, backpack in hand, and haphazardly shoved his belongings into it. Eri’s note was gently rolled up and plopped in last.
A skip to his step, Izuku headed towards the front door. He pulled a corded necklace from under his sweater— some sort of green crystal knotted at the end. Tapping it to the door frame had a bright flash of green lightning dancing across the cool grey door. In the blink of an eye, it morphed into a warm burnt umber, an ornate wreath pinned to the top. With a creak, the door opened, a room notably not the hallway of his apartment complex on the other side.
“Alrighty, guys! Berries and nuts for those who follow me back!” Izuku chirped. Skittering from across the apartment met his ears. A solid six or seven of those hob motherfuckers scurried into the newly manifested room, scampering from under his couch, inside the cupboards, and within his bedroom. Satisfied, Izuku went to follow them in, but paused, “Oh, be sure to check your plumbing before using anything! They, uh…. Like to mess with things and play pranks…..” He gave him a sheepish smile. So the fuckers came in, tossed a smattering of glittery crap on his walls, left trails of pine needles across the hardwood, assaulted his goddamned nipple, and now messed with the plumbing for shits and giggles?
Fan-fucking-tastic. Who’s to say the next time he saw one of those shitheads, he wouldn’t punt it like a football.
The door creaked once more as Izuku slid into the room. A sliver of his form left in sight as he piped up, “Oh, and thank you again for giving this a chance! It… It means more than the world to me….” Goddamnit, the smile on the freckled bastard’s face was too genuine. It left an unbearable buzz under his skin. “Get some rest!” With that, the door closed behind him, that green lightning zipping across it once more. The familiar grey entrance was left.
Eyes lingered on the door for what felt like an eternity. All the new information must have finally caught up with his brain and it short-circuited.
Fuck it, he’s chasing the pain meds with a shot of whiskey. He’d earned it.