Chapter Text
It was quiet, save for the low hum of the heater humming in the background, filling the living room with warmth while snow fell gently outside the apartment window. The faint sound of a crackling fire (from a YouTube video Shinsou had queued up) blended with the soft Christmas music coming from the Bluetooth speaker. The apartment was also alive with the scent of sugar cookies, cinnamon, and just a hint of something… burning .
Shinsou leaned against the doorway of the kitchen, arms crossed and a lazy smile tugging at his lips as he watched Bakugou mutter a string of curses under his breath. Katsuki had wrestled a tray of cookies out of the oven moments before, and though most looked fine, there was one in the corner that was decidedly charred .
"You’re swearing a lot for someone making cookies shaped like snowflakes," Shinsou teased, his voice full of amusement.
Bakugou glared at him over his shoulder. "You’re swearing a lot for someone doin’ jack shit to help."
"I’m moral support," Shinsou said with a grin, pushing off the doorway and padding over to the counter. "You’re doing great, babe."
Bakugou grumbled something about useless boyfriends but didn’t stop carefully transferring cookies from the tray onto the cooling rack. Shinsou leaned on the counter beside him, watching the way Bakugou moved—focused, deliberate, and adorably grumpy . His oversized black sweater had a light dusting of flour on the sleeves, and there was icing smeared faintly on his cheek.
It was so at odds with Bakugou’s usual sharp demeanor that Shinsou couldn’t help but smile to himself.
"These actually look edible."
Bakugou froze mid-motion. " Actually? "
Shinsou smirked, dodging the elbow Bakugou threw at him. "I’m kidding. They look great, babe."
"Yeah, that’s what I thought," Bakugou grumbled, grabbing a spatula to carefully move the cookies to a cooling rack. His movements were precise—because of course they were. Bakugou Katsuki didn’t do anything half-assed, not even Christmas cookies.
Shinsou grabbed a candy cane cookie from the first batch cooling on the counter and took a bite, humming thoughtfully. "Damn. These are good."
Bakugou shot him a satisfied smirk. "I know."
"Stop staring," Bakugou muttered, not looking up from the cookies.
"Can’t help it," Shinsou replied smoothly, his tone soft. "You’re cute when you bake."
"Shut up," Bakugou shot back, but the tips of his ears betrayed him, turning red.
"Flour on your nose," Shinsou added, pointing.
Bakugou cursed and scrubbed at his face with his sleeve, only to smear it worse. Shinsou snorted. "Here, come here."
"What?" Bakugou grumbled, but he let Shinsou tug him closer.
Shinsou reached up and brushed the flour off his nose with his thumb, his touch soft. "Better."
Bakugou grunted, looking anywhere but at Shinsou’s face. "Stop bein’ sappy."
"Not my fault you’re adorable," Shinsou said, grin widening.
Shinsou chuckled and grabbed another cookie, this time a christmas tree-shaped cookie from the batch. He took a bite, humming thoughtfully as he chewed. "Damn. These really are good."
"Of course they are," Bakugou said smugly, turning his nose up as he wiped his hands on a dishtowel.
"I don’t know," Shinsou teased, tilting his head. "You did burn one, though."
Bakugou turned to shoot him a look. "You try baking a hundred of these dumb things without messin’ up one."
"No, thanks. That’s your job, Lord of the Cookies," Shinsou said, grinning. He ducked just in time to avoid the towel Bakugou tossed at his head. “Lord Explosion Cookies then?”
"Asshole."
Shinsou laughed, settling back onto the couch with his mug of hot chocolate. He watched as Bakugou grabbed a bowl of green icing and started piping clean, precise lines onto the cookies. It shouldn’t have been as mesmerizing as it was, but it was—seeing Bakugou Katsuki, pro hero and king of explosions, painstakingly decorate a snowflake-shaped cookie.
Something warm settled in Shinsou’s chest as he sipped his hot chocolate, the quiet hum of the heater and the soft sound of Bakugou muttering to himself filling the room.
After a while, Bakugou glanced up and caught Shinsou still watching him. "What?"
Shinsou just shrugged. "Nothing. I’m just really glad you’re into all this stupid Christmas stuff."
"I’m not into it," Bakugou shot back immediately, though the redness on his ears betrayed him. "You’re the one who wanted all this—decorating, baking, lights, the whole damn thing."
"And yet, here you are," Shinsou said with a smirk.
Bakugou turned back to his cookies, grumbling under his breath, but Shinsou knew better. He wouldn’t say it out loud, but Bakugou cared about this—because Shinsou cared about this. And that thought was enough to keep a soft, dumb smile plastered on Shinsou’s face.
—
The cookies were decorated, the hot chocolate perfectly made and acquired, now Shinsou sat cross-legged comfortably on the couch, bundled up in a fluffy blanket he’d stolen from their bedroom earlier. His eyes fixed on Bakugou, who was sitting on the carpeted floor and glaring murderously at a tangled clump of Christmas lights.The Christmas lights were so tangled, in fact, that Shinsou half-suspected the lights were holding some kind of grudge .
"Y’know," Shinsou drawled, barely suppressing a smirk as he watched the scene unfold, "you’d be done already if you didn’t insist on fighting inanimate objects."
"Shut up," Bakugou grumbled, holding up the clump of lights like it had personally offended him. His ash-blonde hair was messier than usual, his brow furrowed, and Shinsou could swear there was a spark of frustration in his crimson eyes that had nothing to do with his quirk.
"You’re basically wrestling with it at this point," Shinsou added, his tone teasing.
Bakugou growled, his fingers tugging at the knots with mounting frustration. "I’m not fighting them."
"You sure? Because from here it looks like a brawl ," Shinsou teased, resting his chin on his hand. "Christmas Lights: 1, Bakugou Katsuki: 0."
"Do you want a light-up boot to the face?" Bakugou shot back, though his voice lacked any real bite. He then whipped his head around to glare at him, scowling hard enough to melt ice. "Do you wanna untangle this shit yourself?"
"Nope," Shinsou replied, grinning. "I’m enjoying this way too much."
The corner of Bakugou’s eye twitched. He yanked at the lights harder, which only tightened the knots further. The tangled mess mocked him, lights flashing randomly as if laughing at his misfortune.
"Are you kidding me?" Bakugou muttered, shaking the clump like he could intimidate it into submission.
"Right. That’ll work," Shinsou said, trying—and failing—not to laugh. "Did you try threatening them yet?"
"Shut up, Hitoshi," Bakugou snapped, his voice a little too close to a whine.
Shinsou’s grin widened as he sipped his hot chocolate, savoring the show. "I’m just saying, babe, you’re using a lot of brute force for something that probably just needs a little patience."
Bakugou shot him a look that he probably thought could’ve killed a man. But in reality, Shinsou thought his pout was just too dang cute. "I am patient."
“Right,” Shinsou drawled, tilting his head in mock contemplation. “You yelling at the icing bag earlier was a great example of patience.”
“I wasn’t yelling!” Bakugou snapped, his ears tinted pink.
“You told it to ‘quit being a stubborn piece of crap.’”
“That’s not yelling,” Bakugou grumbled, twisting another stubborn strand of lights in his hands. “That’s constructive feedback.”
Shinsou let out a low laugh, the sound warm and unhurried. “Whatever you say, babe. I’m just glad I’m here to witness this festive tragedy.”
Bakugou’s hands froze mid-twist, his glare cutting across the room. “Tragedy?!”
Shinsou raised his mug in mock surrender, his eyes sparkling with amusement. “Hey, don’t mind me. I’m just the supportive boyfriend enjoying his lovely hot chocolate, thank you by the way, while his very capable partner wrestles with the lights.”
“Damn right, I’m capable,” Bakugou muttered, gritting his teeth as he yanked on the tangled mess with more vigor.
Bakugou’s scowl deepened as he turned back to the lights, now muttering curses under his breath that Shinsou couldn’t quite make out.
Still, there was something endearing about it—Bakugou, sitting cross-legged on the floor in his sweater and sweatpants, deadset on winning a war against tangled lights.
"You look cute when you’re concentrating," Shinsou said after a moment, his voice softer now.
Bakugou paused for half a second, his ears turning pink. "Don’t start with that shit."
"I’m just telling the truth," Shinsou replied with a lazy shrug.
"Shut up and let me work," Bakugou muttered, though his movements seemed a little less violent now.
Shinsou hummed, clearly unconvinced but too entertained to intervene. He leaned back, propping his feet up on the coffee table. “You know,” he mused, “if you really want help, you could just ask nicely.”
“I don’t need your help,” Bakugou huffed, though the slight tremor in his voice betrayed just how done he was with the situation.
“Of course not,” Shinsou said smoothly. He sipped his hot chocolate again, suppressing a smirk as Bakugou’s scowl deepened. “But if you keep at it like that, the lights might file a restraining order.”
Bakugou shot him another deadly glare, his face adorably red now. “If you’re so smart, why don’t you fix it?”
“Oh, no,” Shinsou said, waving a hand dismissively. “I wouldn’t dream of getting in the way of your creative process.”
“Creative process?!” Bakugou barked, gesturing sharply to the tangled lights. “This isn’t art, it’s—”
“It’s a masterpiece,” Shinsou interrupted, grinning. “A true symbol of the season. Chaos, frustration, and yet… undeniable effort.”
Bakugou stared at him, jaw slack in disbelief. “You’re the worst.”
“And yet, here we are,” Shinsou quipped, leaning forward to pluck a stray strand of lights out of Bakugou’s hands. Their fingers brushed, and Shinsou’s grin softened into something gentler.
Shinsou chuckled and leaned back, watching as Bakugou finally—miraculously—freed the last loop of lights. Bakugou let out a triumphant "HA!" and shot a smug glance at Shinsou. He held them up like a trophy, letting out a victorious huff.
"There. Told you I’d win."
Shinsou whistled. "Look at you, King of Christmas." Shinsou clapped lazily, the sound muffled by his blanket cocoon. "Congratulations, babe. You’ve officially defeated an inanimate object. Your greatest opponent yet. The lights are shaking in their sockets."
Bakugou rolled his eyes but couldn’t quite fight the little smirk tugging at his lips.
“Don’t push your luck,” Bakugou muttered, though the corner of his mouth betrayed him, quirking into a more noticeable smile.
Shinsou didn’t miss a beat, catching the glimmer of amusement in Katsuki’s eyes. “What’re you gonna do if I do, huh?” he teased, propping himself up on an elbow as his grin widened.
Bakugou snorted, rolling his eyes. “Keep talkin’, I’ll tie you up with these,” he shot back, gesturing vaguely toward the tangle of fairy lights still resting on the coffee table from earlier. His voice carried no real bite—just a huff of playful annoyance.
“You promise?” Shinsou countered, waggling his eyebrows suggestively.
Katsuki froze, his brain catching up to the implication. Predictably, his cheeks flared a deep, telltale pink, and he turned his face away sharply, trying (and failing) to hide the flush with one hand. “Shut the hell up,” he grumbled, glaring at the TV like it was somehow complicit in Shinsou’s antics.
Shinsou, utterly delighted, laughed softly. “Oh, darling . You make it way too easy.”
—
After the lights were successfully strung around the tree—glowing warmly against the mismatched ornaments—Shinsou wandered back into the kitchen to grab more hot chocolate. When he returned, Bakugou was still staring at the tree, arms crossed and a small, satisfied smile on his face.
Shinsou set his mug down and walked over, slipping an arm around Bakugou’s waist. "Looks good, huh?"
"Yeah," Bakugou admitted after a moment, voice quieter than usual.
They stood there for a second, just admiring it. The heater hummed softly, and the tree cast a warm glow across the apartment.
"Hey, Katsuki," Shinsou said casually, a mischievous lilt in his tone.
"Mhmm?" Bakugou asked, turning to look at him.
"Look up."
Bakugou’s brows furrowed in confusion and then he glanced upward—just enough to spot the sprig of mistletoe Shinsou had taped to the ceiling above them. His entire body stilled.
"Are you serious?" Bakugou muttered, glaring at the offending decoration.
"You walked right into my trap." Shinsou grinned. "It’s Tradition, babe."
"This is stupid."
"Tradition’s tradition," Shinsou said, tugging Bakugou closer. "You gonna disrespect the holidays? The tradition?"
Bakugou grumbled something incoherent, his usual sharp edges dulled by the flickering warmth of the Christmas lights and the quiet intimacy of the moment. He didn’t pull away when Shinsou leaned in closer, though his ruby eyes flicked downward, almost like he was bracing himself for the contact.
The kiss was soft—softer than one would expect from someone as intense as Katsuki. It lingered, unrushed, the kind of kiss that spoke more in silence than words ever could. Shinsou’s chest aches with something deep and full, a quiet swell of affection that made him want to hold Katsuki closer, to pour every unspoken thought into the space between them.
Bakugou’s hands moved almost hesitantly, betraying the careful control he usually carried himself with. One hand rested on Shinsou’s hip, the touch light at first, as if testing the waters. The other curled into the thick fabric of Shinsou’s sweater, his fingers twisting slightly like he needed an anchor.
Shinsou could feel the way Bakugou exhaled softly against his lips, the faintest tremble in the hand at his hip betraying the vulnerability Katsuki so rarely allowed himself to show. It wasn’t fear—it was something quieter, something unpracticed but unmistakably genuine.
As they pulled back just a fraction, Shinsou kept his forehead resting against Bakugou’s, his thumb brushing gently over Katsuki’s cheekbone. The redness there wasn’t just from the warmth of the room; it was the telltale blush that Katsuki could never quite hide.
“You’re always so damn serious,” Shinsou murmured, his voice low and teasing but undeniably fond.
Bakugou huffed, his hand tightening slightly in the fabric of Shinsou’s sweater. “Takes two to make this serious, dumbass.”
“True,” Shinsou said with a small grin. “Guess we’re both in too deep.”
Bakugou didn’t respond—not verbally, anyway. Instead, his hand on Shinsou’s hip pressed a little firmer, pulling him just the slightest bit closer, as though he wasn’t ready to let the moment end just yet.
Shinsou, watching him from where he stood, couldn’t resist breaking the silence. “You’re such a softie,” he said with a teasing smile. “Admit it.”
Bakugou’s lips curled into a scowl, his eyes narrowing slightly. “Shut up.”
Shinsou chuckled, stepping closer, and before Bakugou could protest, he pressed a quick, affectionate kiss to Bakugou’s pouty lips. The warmth of the kiss lingered, and Shinsou pulled back, his eyes softening. “Fine, fine. I’ll leave you alone. For now.”
Bakugou glared at him for a second, but there was a subtle, fond glimmer in his eyes. He didn’t say anything, but Shinsou knew that in his own way, Katsuki was already melting.
Even though they were having this really touching moment, it didn’t stop Shinsou from stealing an extra kiss and a cookie while Bakugou was momentarily distracted in their little bubble.
Shinsou grinned against Bakugou’s lips as he pulled away, his hand already sneaking toward the plate of cookies they’d baked together earlier. He popped one into his mouth, savoring the sweetness.
"Oi! Those are for later!" Bakugou growled, snapping out of it, eyes narrowing in disbelief.
Shinsou just shrugged, unabashed. "It’s not my fault you’re too cute to resist."
"Stop eating all the damn cookies, Hitoshi!" Bakugou’s voice held an almost playful edge as he made a half-hearted lunge for the plate, but Shinsou was already out of reach, a mischievous glint in his eye.
“I'll leave you one," Shinsou said with a wink, biting into another cookie. "But you know, you’re really cute when you're all worked up about cookies."
Bakugou scowled, his cheeks flushing slightly, but he couldn’t hold the irritated expression for long. Not with Shinsou looking so smug, and certainly not when he couldn’t help but smile at the absurdity of it all.
“Hush, you! Plus, I was the one who made them, I should have more cookies than just one!” Bakugou grumbled, crossing his arms over his chest as he shot Shinsou an exaggerated pout.
"Yeah, yeah," Shinsou called over his shoulder, already munching on it. "Make another batch, Great Lord Baker. You’ve got plenty of flour."
"Keep talkin’, I’ll ice your face," Bakugou threatened, brandishing the icing pipe like it was a weapon of mass destruction.
Shinsou, already halfway back to the couch, stopped mid-step and turned, biting back a grin. "Oh no, I’m terrified ," he deadpanned, holding his half-eaten cookie like a shield.
Bakugou narrowed his eyes, a dangerous smirk spreading across his face. "You should be."
Shinsou barely had time to react before Bakugou lunged, icing pipe in hand.
"Whoa, whoa— Katsuki! " Shinsou yelped, dodging just in time as Bakugou swiped at him with a generous glob of green frosting. "I was kidding !"
"Too late, dumbass," Bakugou shot back, stalking after him with the focus of a predator.
Shinsou darted around the coffee table, still holding his cookie defensively. "You’re supposed to ice the cookies, not me !"
"You should’ve kept your mouth shut," Bakugou replied, an almost evil glint in his eyes.
They circled the living room like two kids playing tag, Shinsou laughing breathlessly as Bakugou tried to corner him. The moment Bakugou lunged again, Shinsou pivoted and dashed toward the kitchen.
"Are you seriously running?" Bakugou called, incredulous.
"I’m protecting myself from culinary warfare!" Shinsou shouted back, sliding behind the counter. He bent over, hands on his knees as he caught his breath, grinning from ear to ear.
Bakugou stood in the doorway, icing pipe still poised in his hand, a smug look on his face. "You’re only making this worse for yourself, y’know."
"You wouldn’t do it," Shinsou challenged, still grinning. "You’re too soft on me."
Bakugou’s eye twitched. "Oh, you think so?"
Shinsou straightened up, taking one careful step forward. "Yeah. You love me too much."
Bakugou didn’t say anything for a moment, just watched him with that unreadable expression that always made Shinsou’s heart stutter. Then—so quickly Shinsou barely registered it—Bakugou moved.
Shinsou didn’t even get a chance to dodge. Bakugou lunged and grabbed him by the sweater and, before Shinsou could argue, smeared a line of icing across his cheek.
" Gotcha ," Bakugou said smugly, stepping back to admire his work.
Shinsou blinked, momentarily stunned. He reached up, swiping his thumb over his cheek and staring at the smear of frosting on his hand. "You did not just do that."
Bakugou grinned, triumphant. "Guess I did."
Shinsou looked up slowly, an exaggerated expression of betrayal on his face. "You’re a monster."
"You deserved it."
"Is that so?" Shinsou smirked and stepped forward. "Well, congratulations, Great Lord Baker, you’ve started a war."
Bakugou’s smirk faltered. "Don’t even—"
Before he could finish, Shinsou swiped his finger through the red icing on the counter and dotted it right onto the tip of Bakugou’s nose.
Bakugou froze.
Shinsou stepped back, holding up his hands in mock surrender, a lopsided grin on his face. "Now we’re even."
Bakugou’s hand flew to his nose, his face an unreadable mix of surprise and outrage. "Did you just—?"
"Yup," Shinsou said, biting his lip to keep from laughing. "It’s a good look on you. Very festive."
For a second, Bakugou just stared at him, wide-eyed and pink-cheeked. Then, to Shinsou’s surprise, he snorted—a genuine laugh breaking through the usual grumbling.
“Shut up and kiss me again,”
Shinsou’s smile widened, his heart flipping in his chest as he leaned in again, their noses brushing. “Gladly.”
This time, the kiss was slower, deeper, and far more confident, as though Bakugou had finally let himself sink into its warmth. Shinsou felt the firm press of Katsuki’s hand on his hip, his thumb brushing idly over the fabric, as if committing the moment to memory. For a second, Shinsou could only stare, momentarily at a loss for words.
Bakugou’s face lingered close, his breath warm against Shinsou’s cheek, the faintest flush dusting his skin.
When they finally pulled apart, the soft intensity in Katsuki’s eyes sent a fresh wave of butterflies fluttering in Shinsou’s stomach.
"There," Bakugou muttered. "Happy?"
"Very," Shinsou replied, grinning as he stole another quick kiss.
"Don’t push it."
Shinsou chuckled and rested his forehead against Bakugou’s, smiling softly. "Merry Christmas, Katsuki."
Bakugou sighed but leaned into him just a little. "Merry Christmas, Hitoshi."
And for a moment, tangled lights, burned cookies, and all, everything was perfect.
—
After the first (and second, and a sneaky third) mistletoe kiss, Bakugou thought Shinsou was done . He’d paid his dues to the stupid Christmas tradition, kissed Shinsou under the dumb piece of greenery, and they could move on.
At least, that’s what he thought.
Shinsou, on the other hand, had other plans.
It started innocently enough. Bakugou had plopped himself on the couch later that evening, finally settling down after an afternoon of baking, decorating, and being forced to wrestle Christmas lights. He was half-asleep, one hand resting on his stomach and the other loosely gripping the TV remote as some cheesy Christmas movie played in the background.
Shinsou wandered over and leaned against the back of the couch, staring down at Bakugou with a sly grin.
“What now?” Bakugou mumbled, cracking an eye open.
“Nothing,” Shinsou replied, his voice far too innocent. “Just… you’re sitting under something.”
Bakugou blinked a few times, still half asleep. “What the hell are you talking about—”
And then it clicked. His gaze shot upward, and sure enough, there it was: the mistletoe. He had to hand it to Shinsou—he’d managed to tape it to the ceiling beam above the couch when Bakugou wasn’t looking.
“Hitoshi,” Bakugou growled, sitting up a little straighter, his face heating up. “Are you serious?”
“Tradition,” Shinsou said smoothly, leaning over the back of the couch until their faces were just inches apart. There was something soft in his eyes, but the teasing grin never left his lips.
Bakugou huffed, but he didn’t pull back. “You’re so damn annoying.”
“And yet,” Shinsou said, voice softening, “you’re not moving.”
“And yet,” Shinsou murmured, voice softening as his breath brushed against Bakugou’s cheek, “you’re not moving.”
Bakugou stared at him, flustered but determined to hold his ground. “But we’ve already kissed under the damn mistletoe,” he muttered, his voice a little less sure now.
Shinsou’s smile only grew. “We’re not done with the tradition yet, are we?”
Bakugou’s face went even redder, and he almost looked away, but Shinsou’s gaze was too soft, too fond. It was almost impossible to resist.
Bakugou opened his mouth to argue but didn’t get the chance—Shinsou kissed him, slow and warm, stealing every bit of the fight Katsuki might’ve had left. Shinsou’s hand cupped the back of Bakugou’s neck, thumb brushing gently against his skin. Bakugou sighed softly into the kiss before he could stop himself, his hands clenching the hem of Shinsou’s sweater.
When Shinsou pulled back, Bakugou’s face was faintly flushed, his lips parted as he glared weakly up at him.
“You’re lucky you’re cute,” he muttered, before closing the gap between them and pressing a second consecutive kiss to Shinsou’s lips, a little shy but no less sincere—almost as if he couldn’t help himself.
Shinsou’s heart skipped a beat, his smile soft and almost too fond for his usual teasing. He didn’t say anything at first, just let Bakugou linger there for a moment before pulling back slightly, still hovering close enough that their breaths mingled.
Shinsou’s smile was absolutely radiant as he pulled back just a little. “I know.”
Bakugou rolled his eyes but couldn’t hide the faint smile that tugged at the corners of his mouth.
Shinsou smirked. “And you’re easy to kiss.”
“Get lost.”
—
The next time it happened, Bakugou was back in the kitchen, this time scrubbing icing off the counter while muttering curses about the “mess Shinsou didn’t help clean up.” He was so focused on wiping away a particularly stubborn smear that he didn’t notice Shinsou sneak up behind him.
“You’re working hard,” Shinsou said, leaning casually against the fridge.
Bakugou didn’t bother turning around, his focus entirely on the task at hand. “Damn right I am. You better be grateful.”
“Oh, I am,” Shinsou replied with a sly grin, taking a slow step closer, his voice dropping a little lower. “You look... very good when you’re hard at work.”
Bakugou stiffened, his hands pausing mid-task as his heart skipped a beat. He could feel the heat in his face, but he refused to let it show. “Cut it out,” he grumbled, trying to play it cool, though his voice had a slight edge to it.
Shinsou smirked, moving even closer until he was right behind Bakugou, close enough to feel the warmth radiating off him. “Why? I’m just telling the truth.”
“You’re ridiculous,” Bakugou muttered, his face flushed, pretending to focus on what he was doing. But the teasing tone in Shinsou’s voice was getting to him more than he cared to admit.
Shinsou's smirk only widened. “Well, if I’m so ridiculous, you might wanna look up again, babe.”
Bakugou’s hands stilled, rag still pressed to the counter. “…No way.”
He turned around slowly, and there it was—another sprig of mistletoe, hanging suspiciously from the cabinet above his head.
“ How many of those damn things did you hang up? ” Bakugou demanded, glaring at Shinsou.
Shinsou just grinned, stepping into Bakugou’s space. “Enough to keep you on your toes.”
“This is harassment,” Bakugou grumbled, though he stayed rooted to the spot as Shinsou slipped a hand around his waist.
“Just think of it as holiday cheer,” Shinsou teased before kissing him again, slow and sweet, stealing Bakugou’s breath away.
Bakugou’s arms instinctively came up, hands resting on Shinsou’s shoulders as he kissed back despite himself. He’d never admit it, but there was something nice about how unhurried Shinsou’s kisses were—like he had all the time in the world.
When they broke apart, Bakugou narrowed his eyes. “You planned this.”
Shinsou grinned lazily. “Maybe.”
“You’re gonna pay for this.”
“Looking forward to it,” Shinsou replied with a wink.
The final straw came the next morning. Bakugou stumbled groggily into the living room, still in his sleep clothes—an oversized black shirt and sweatpants that were too long on him. He had one goal: coffee.
What he didn’t account for was Shinsou Hitoshi .
Shinsou was already awake, sitting cross-legged on the couch with a satisfied look on his face, like a cat that had just caught its prey. Bakugou frowned suspiciously as he shuffled past him.
“What’s with the face?” Bakugou grumbled, scratching at his messy hair.
“Oh, nothing,” Shinsou replied casually. “I just wanted to tell you something important.”
Bakugou sleepily stopped mid-step. “What?” he muttered, his brow furrowed in confusion as he looked at Shinsou, still half-dazed from sleep.
“You’re under the mistletoe again.”
Bakugou froze and looked up slowly, already groaning internally. Sure enough, there was yet another piece of mistletoe taped to the ceiling right above the coffee table.
“This is psychological warfare,” Bakugou muttered, glaring at Shinsou.
Shinsou shrugged, not even trying to look innocent. “I’m committed to the bit.”
“You’re committed to being a pain in my ass,” Bakugou shot back, though he didn’t make any effort to move away.
Instead, Shinsou stood and walked over, a soft smile tugging at his lips as he stopped just in front of Bakugou.
“You really don’t look that mad, though,” Shinsou said softly, reaching up to brush a thumb against Bakugou’s cheek.
Bakugou’s face burned as he scowled. “Shut up.”
“Make me.”
Bakugou didn’t need to be told twice. He grabbed the front of Shinsou’s hoodie and tugged him down into a kiss, rough and stubborn at first but melting into something softer as Shinsou kissed him back.
When they pulled apart, Shinsou grinned like he’d just won the lottery. “See? Mistletoe isn’t so bad.”
Bakugou huffed, letting go of Shinsou’s hoodie. “You’re lucky I like you.”
“I’m very lucky,” Shinsou replied with a smirk, pressing a quick kiss to the tip of Bakugou’s nose just to be annoying.
Bakugou groaned, shoving Shinsou lightly before stomping toward the kitchen to make his coffee. “I swear to god, if I find one more of those damn things—”
“You’ll kiss me again?”
“Shut up, Hitoshi!”
Shinsou just laughed, flopping back onto the couch and feeling pretty damn smug.
Despite all his complaining, Bakugou didn’t take down a single mistletoe. Not really. And Shinsou noticed—he always noticed.
So when the two of them sat curled up on the couch later that night, sharing a blanket while a movie played quietly in the background, Shinsou whispered, “Hey, Katsuki.”
“What?” Bakugou mumbled sleepily, his head resting on Shinsou’s shoulder.
“Look up.”
Bakugou cracked one eye open, saw the faint green of mistletoe hanging on the shelf above them, and groaned softly.
“You’re the worst.”
Shinsou kissed his temple, smiling against his skin. “You love it.”
Bakugou grumbled something unintelligible but didn’t pull away, leaning into him just a little more.
And really, that was all the answer Shinsou needed.