Archive of Our Own

Katsuki stared at the mirror.

With a deep breath, he raised his hands, conjuring a shimmering line of fire. Pulsing, the scarlet trail winded around and curled in on itself until it resembled the shape of a wonky dragon; one that could probably use a good spa retreat. The glittering threads flickered, then diffused into mist, landing over the mirror in smears of fine residue that sent up trembling clouds of steam.

Annoyed, he threw his hands down. 

This had never been difficult before. He’d been showing off his magic since he was a damn kid.

It was all that shitty nerd’s fault. Why’d he have to go and make Katsuki nervous? Why did he have to smile at him so sweetly and kiss him and fuck him so well he couldn’t take a walk without thinking about it since that night?

He shook those thoughts out of his head. It all meant nothing if he couldn’t prove his worth as a partner. 

That meant reminding Izuku exactly who was the strongest fire mage in the village.

“Katsuki! Dinner’s ready!” 

He kicked the bathroom door open, stomping down the hall to the dining room, where his parents were already seated with an extra plate laid out for him. Grilled salmon was set on a bed of leaves, along with three bowls of soup and a large jug of water.

Mitsuki frowned as he collapsed onto the chair. “What’s with that face?” 

“I was busy,” he grumbled. “And I’m not hungry.”

“Not hungry?” Her eyes narrowed. “What’s up with you?” 

Grabbing his chopsticks to slide his share of salmon onto his plate, Katsuki fixed his stare on the soft, pink flesh of the cooked fish. He was envious of it right now. “Nothing. I got something to tell you guys.”

“What is it?” Masaru asked with a hint of concern. It grated on Katsuki’s nerves. “You didn’t do anything bad, did you?”  

“‘Course not,” he barked out, glowering. He had to say it rapidly, like cutting off an infected limb. “Deku made me an offer.”

Mitsuki dropped her chopsticks. “A courtship offer?” 

“What else, hag?” 

“Shut up, brat.” Her mouth fell ajar. “Izuku-kun? The sweet, handsome boy that always helps everyone? He wants you?”

“Don’t say it like it’s so unbelievable!” 

“Well, it’s not like I’m surprised. That kid’s been running after you since he could walk. I just didn’t think he’d actually want my dumbass son for good.”

“Oi, shut your mouth!” 

“You shouldn’t talk to your mother like that,” Masaru interjected timidly. Two pairs of scarlet eyes whipped around to glare at him, and he sighed, shaking his head. “Why do I bother?” 

“Anyway, I accepted,” Katsuki said, picking at his salmon with his chopsticks, though it was about as enlightening as declaring that the sky was blue. 

Her eyes shone. “I’m happy for you. Inko and I always hoped to see you two together, but it was never our place to interfere.”

“Whatever,” he grumbled. “Just make sure we don’t embarrass ourselves when he and Auntie come over to ask officially.”

Mitsuki bit her lip, trying to hold back a smile, but when the endeavor failed, diverted her gaze to the salmon on her plate. “I always thought it would be the other way around.”

“I was gonna ask! He just got to it first.” He pinned the salmon between his chopsticks. “It’s not like I give a fuck. Doesn’t make a difference. They just have to do the asking, that’s all.”

“You don’t need to sound so defensive,” she said, gentler than he expected. “Like you said, it doesn’t make a difference.”

“‘Course it doesn’t.”

“I know you two will be very happy together. Enjoy this process, alright? Don’t stress yourself out too much.”

Katsuki huffed, trying to ignore the bundle of warmth spreading through his chest. “It’s like you don’t know me at all.”

✵

A heady layer of sunshine cut through the brisk winter air, and tree branches hung bare, decorated with sparse twigs. It was only a willow tree that survived the cold, draping its long leaves in a canopy around Katsuki, sheltering him from the wind.

He’d stood under this tree with Izuku when they were kids, huddling together under stripped branches, and asked, pouting, why Izuku couldn’t use his magic to regrow the leaves. We don’t control nature, Izuku had said, all matter-of-fact, like he was parroting it from some encyclopedia he’d memorized. We just draw our energy from it. It’s like… flavored water.

Katsuki had scoffed. Flavored water. How did that make any sense when his own magic could spark real flame?

Because yours is energy, Izuku told him. Since you draw power from kinetic energy, yours can turn into fire.

It just made him mad. Why did shitty Izuku know more about his magic than he did? 

He’d lost his temper and yelled something stupid, marched off down the hill. They didn’t speak for two weeks, even though Izuku came knocking at his door every night.

Even now, that voice is calling his name. 

Biting the inside of his cheek, Katsuki turned to see Izuku, out of breath, panting as he dragged himself up the hill.

“I’m sorry I’m late,” he said, wiping the sweat off his forehead. “There was this kid that lost his ball, so I—”

Katsuki cut him off. “Don’t have to explain yourself.”

“Oh. Okay.” Izuku hesitated, bouncing lightly on the balls of his feet. “Can I kiss you?” 

“I—I guess so.”

Izuku flushed pink, gaze darting around them, then leaned closer until their foreheads touched, parted lips just brushing. Katsuki’s hands snaked around to rest on the small of Izuku’s back, fingers tracing down over warm skin, caressing the hard planes of muscle.

They stood like that for a while, noses nuzzling together, peaceful silence punctuated with a bird cooing in the tree overhead. Izuku was always reluctant to pull away from a hug first, and Katsuki never wanted to leave, either, content to share soft, dizzying breaths under the cool pressure of the winter sun.

Eventually, Izuku sighed and stepped away, fingers flexing then loosening. “That was really nice.”

“You don’t need to leave a review,” he teased. “I bet you’d write about this in your notebooks, huh?” 

He almost looked indignant. “I would not.”

Katsuki couldn’t help but laugh, trying to suppress the hint of anxiety that surged in his stomach. “Move back. I’m gonna get started.”

Enthusiasm sparkled in Izuku’s eyes as he took a step back. “Go ahead.”

Gazing at the vivid hue of Izuku’s irises would distract him, so Katsuki tugged his attention back to the first spark of red that flared in the space between them, slowly spiraling outwards until it formed a dazzling whirlpool of shimmering scarlet. Tongue pressed between his teeth, Katsuki concentrated on introducing varying shades of red into the whirlpool, threads of golden joining the spiral, hypnotic.

He pushed another thread of flame into the glittering swirl and watched it grow, magnetic pull drawing the fire towards itself. Heat spread through his body, each carmine thread joining the others until they were drowning in a sea of vibrant color, surging with a constant hum of raw energy.

Once the whirlpool had gathered enough momentum, Katsuki guided the flames outwards, twisting them together into the shape of a dragon, breathing hot flame that sprayed heat so strongly that he could feel it down to his core, like stepping outside on a scorching summer day.

The fire burnt steady, swirling and shifting into new shapes, fiery raindrops falling around him like star-shaped sparks, glowing gems that flashed brilliantly. Katsuki focused, taking care not to let his attention wander as he heated up the fire until it flickered blue. 

Another bright trail of flames burned from within the vortex to the tip of the dragon, where it erupted as a fountain of blue sparks that glittered brightly against the orange flames. Once it was set free, the glowing fountain poured downward in graceful spirals, showering in dying embers over the grass before disappearing with a pop. Relief washed through him.

Izuku beamed at him, eyes glazed over and misty. “Kacchan, that was unbelievable. It was the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen.”

He exhaled a breath towards his upper lip, blowing his sweaty hair aside. “Yeah?” 

“Well, other than you.”

“Dumb nerd,” he said, heat spreading to the tips of his ears. “It’s just a formality.” 

“It was super cool,” he assured him. “Thank you.” 

“Tch. Shut up.” Katsuki crossed his arms. “Did you tell your mom?” 

Izuku brightened. “Oh, yeah. She was… Well, she was kind of surprised, but she wasn’t angry. I think she just wasn’t expecting it.” 

A grin tugged at the corner of his lips. “To be fair, I wasn’t, either.”

With a soft laugh, Izuku inched closer, reaching up to tuck a stray strand of Katsuki’s hair behind his ear. His fingers trailed over Katsuki’s jawline, brushing his cheekbone. Warm. “Is it fine if we come over tomorrow?”

“Eager, huh?” 

He smiled sheepishly. “I just can’t wait to call you mine.”

Breath hitching, Katsuki looped his arms around Izuku’s neck, cheeks flushing hot. “Fine. Come tomorrow.”

Izuku pressed a smile against his skin. “I’ll see you then.”

✵

Upon Inko’s suggestion, the day of the visit was postponed to three days later. Izuku could hardly think of anything else, driven to distraction so badly that he almost took a burst of flames straight to the face when he was sparring with Todoroki. 

There was always a chance that he had misinterpreted everything and Mitsuki would decide he wasn’t good enough for her son. Reminding himself of her excitement whenever he came over to their home or when she spotted him and Katsuki hunting together in the forest should have been sufficient to push those thoughts from his mind, but—well. It was a big deal.

It would take him a while to choose his clothes, so he left the task to the evening before the awaited day, but he still found himself staring at his cabinet for half an hour, utterly lost. It needed to be perfect, but nothing here was good enough for Kacchan.

“Mom,” he called, dejected. “I need your help.”

Footsteps echoed in the corridor, then Inko poked her head around the edge of the door, nudging it open.

Gathering the situation from the sight of the messy cabinet, she gave him a knowing look. “You finally decided to wear something nice?” 

He pouted, crossing his arms. “My clothes aren’t that bad.”

“Oh, I’m just kidding.” She pushed the cabinet doors further open and peered inside. “I suppose you don’t want anything too fancy. It’s just the Bakugous, after all. You came down in your pajamas last time I invited them for dinner.” 

“I didn’t realize they’d arrived!” 

“And there was that time I was visiting my cousin and you got that stomach bug, so Mitsuki had to take care of you.”

“Don’t remind me,” he whined. “I still want to look good. What if they don’t think I’m good enough for Kacchan?”  

She stopped in her tracks, whipping around to stare at him. “Do you know how many parents have been begging me for you to marry their daughters? There’s going to be mass hysteria when they realize you rejected all those pretty, talented girls for someone that acts like a baby dragon.”

“Hey!” 

She listed off her fingers. “Stubborn, aggressive, thinks he’s scarier than he is. Sounds accurate to me.” 

“Kacchan’s the greatest warrior in the village,” Izuku protested. “He’s great at gardening, too, and his cooking’s amazing. He’s even good at wood-burning and carving.” 

“You don’t need to convince me—you know I like him. I’m just saying you should recognize your own worth, too. I’m sure he’s panicking right now, wondering if he’s worthy of you. I hope you’ll help each other learn to appreciate yourselves.”

“Thanks.” He hesitated. “So, um, the outfit?” 

“Oh! Right.” She stood on the tips of her toes as she leaned into the closet, dress shirts bunching over her hair. Once she hit the back of the closet, she crouched down, pulling out a wicker box. “Do these still fit you?” 

Izuku took the box and lifted the lid to find a set he had stored for special occasions; an olive green tunic, decorated with golden embroidery, and a pair of loose pants that were supposed to free earth mages to feel the vibrations of the earth but just made him worry that his pants were going to fall down. Traditional, flattering, and a belt could fix the issue with the pants.

“This is perfect,” he said, satisfied. “Thanks.”

“You’re welcome.” A hint of worry knitted her eyebrows. “Now, I need to pick my own outfit. I was thinking of the pink skirt, but perhaps the blue one would be better for such an important day. Then again, maybe I should wear a dress, though I rarely see Mitsuki wearing them. Oh, but what if—”

Maybe Katsuki had been onto something when he said Izuku took after his mom.

✵

At the knock on the door, Katsuki leapt to his feet, then forced his expression into a sullen frown. It was too late; Masaru had noticed, smiling at Katsuki and ruffling his hair affectionately as he walked past to open the door.

Izuku gave an excited wave, face lit up so brightly that it was like staring directly into the sun. Inko side-eyed him, lips pressed together to hide her amusement. It set Katsuki’s bristling nerves at ease to see Izuku vibrating with excitement, fingers quivering as he thrust a small, cloth-covered basket into a surprised Masaru’s hands.

“I made bread,” he announced. “Well, I tried, but I don’t know if it’s any good.”

Mitsuki appeared in the doorway, nudging Masaru aside with her shoulder. “I’m sure it’s great, Izuku-kun. Come inside.”

Katsuki retreated to the living room, trying not to look behind him, despite the intent gaze on the back of his head. As a child, he often wondered what his courtship would look like, but he’d always imagined he would approach his partner first; an imaginary figure who always had a head of green curls and matching eyes. 

It felt strange to sit on his own sofa while Izuku and Inko settled on the opposite one, setting the bread on the coffee table.

“Katsuki,” Mitsuki said with a meaningful twinkle in her eyes.  

He stood up, avoiding eye contact as he trudged to the kitchen. Time for his second test. At least if he messed up the courting display, Izuku would probably laugh and kiss him before stepping back to watch his second attempt. If he fucked up this drink, the entire Midoriya bloodline would judge him, and probably the rest of the village, too.

Look at Bakugou Katsuki. He thinks he’s a bigshot, but he can’t even make a brew for his husband.

Nope. That couldn’t happen.

Carefully, he poured a bottle of sake into a pot, then turned up the heat on the stove while he searched for the tray of spices, measuring out cinnamon, pepper, and ginger. 

Quiet footsteps treaded behind him, making him tense up, tingles spreading over his skin.

He’d never been nervous around Izuku before. Not even when he was leaning against the doorway like he was now, watching him with unabashed affection. His shirt brought out the flecks of deep emerald in his eyes, and that wasn’t good for Katsuki’s heart.

“Do you need any help?” 

Katsuki bristled. “No. Get out.”

“Maybe we could prepare it together.”

“It’s my responsibility,” he pointed out. “You’re not even supposed to be here. We don’t have your special, dorky, Earth-Society-approved chaperone.”

“I told you, there’s no such thing!” A light blush tinted his cheekbones. “And I think we’re way past that point. Besides, our situation’s different. No one would find it weird if two childhood friends spend time alone together. Still, um—don’t mention this.”

“Mention what?” 

Izuku crossed the room in a few quick strides and cupped Katsuki’s cheeks before pressing a firm kiss to his lips, wet and open, so intense it was dizzying. When they parted, Katsuki knotted his fists in the soft material of Izuku’s shirt, tugging him close, not letting him pull away. It felt so good that he didn’t give a fuck about the furious heat in his cheeks, spreading down his neck.

“Go away,” Katsuki whispered, breathless. “I have to make this perfect.”

“You’d be the perfect partner for me, anyway.”

“For luck, then. I’m not messing around with this courtship crap. It’s gonna be perfect.”

Izuku laughed, jostling his vibrant curls, brushing against Katsuki’s cheeks like the soft touch of falling leaves. “I believe you.”

“Good.” He reached up to flick Izuku’s forehead, hard. “Now get the fuck out or I’ll pour hot sake all over you.”

Izuku huffed a laugh as he retreated, shutting the kitchen door. 

Holding back a sigh, Katsuki rubbed his eyes. Only a few weeks before he would have Izuku to himself, and he would be free of the frustration that bubbled over in him whenever he tried to indulge in this desperate want. There were only so many times Izuku could be torn from his grasp before he would lose control and drag him off to a distant corner of the woods.

He forced the thought from his mind. He did not need to think about that night when their parents were in the next room.

Once the drink was ready, he poured it into red lacquered mugs, arranging them carefully onto a tray. Maroon caught a stream of sunlight from the window, making it burn bright, and the pleasant aroma drifted into the air, steam curling around him.

He carried the tray to the living room, and Izuku perked up like a golden retriever. Katsuki’s heart squeezed—damn it. If he had to see that lovesick expression for the rest of his life, he wouldn’t survive. At least not with his dignity intact. His mother had told him to enjoy this courtship, but it was getting harder and harder to resist pulling Izuku aside and kissing the hell out of him. 

He lowered the tray onto the table, then lifted the first mug and offered it to Inko. 

“Thank you,” she said, bowing her head in appreciation. “It smells lovely.”

With a nod, he offered the next mug to his father, and the other to his mother. Finally, he extended a mug to Izuku, trying to still his trembling hands. 

“Thanks, Kacchan,” Izuku said, clutching the mug protectively. “I appreciate it.”

“Was nothing,” he muttered, sitting between his parents. He was too fixated on watching Izuku take the first sip to reach for his own mug, enraptured by the way Izuku licked the wetness off his lips.

“This tastes really interesting. We usually use milder herbs like mint or lemon balm—at least, that’s what I read in this book I borrowed from the library a while ago, but it makes sense that you’d use bolder ones—it’s just like you. It’s kind of spicy, like paprika, I think, or maybe it’s all the cinnamon. I think—” 

Inko elbowed him lightly. “It’s delicious.”

“Very delicious,” Izuku repeated cheerfully, bowing his head in a shallow dip towards Katsuki. “Thank you.” 

“It really is,” she added with an amused glance at her son, setting her own mug onto the tray. “I wouldn’t have expected anything less from you.”

Mitsuki clapped a hand on Katsuki’s shoulder. “That’s my boy.” 

Katsuki was struggling not to reveal how pleased he was, shifting under the weight of their gazes. He sipped from his mug, his insides warm and squirming, and glanced up to find Izuku gazing at him with those bright green eyes. 

Izuku lifted his cup to his lips again. This time, when he tipped it back, he did so until it was empty, then lowered it to lean back against the sofa, his lashes fluttering down, content. It made Katsuki preen.

“I’ll refill your cup,” he said. Izuku started to stand up, but Katsuki leapt to his feet and pressed his knee against Izuku’s, shooting him a warning stare. “Don’t you dare. I’m the host, so give me the damn mug.”

With an adoring smile, he held out the mug, gazing at him as if he had offered to pour him liquid gold. “Thanks.”

Katsuki slipped to the kitchen to replenish the mug from the still-hot pot, returning to the living room just in time for Mitsuki to shoot him a look that told him they were moving on to the main point of the meeting.

“Well, we all know why we’re here,” Inko began, folding her hands on her lap. “Naturally, the kids are in love, and we want what’s best for them.” She hesitated. “For us, the parents usually make the proposal, but I’ve heard that fire mages ask their partners directly.”

“Whatever you’re more comfortable with,” Mitsuki assured her. “We don’t mind.”

“In that case, I think Izuku would like to ask.”

All eyes turned to Izuku, and a nervous flush suffused his face. Some kind of noise slipped from his lips, the first half of a word cut short by a deep breath. He looked down at his fingers, twisting them together. The silence was almost unbearable, but no one was inclined to break the tension, letting Izuku flounder and stammer out several syllables that dissolved into awkward silence.

Finally, he cleared his throat, raising his head to meet their eyes. “Thank you for having us today. I, um, hope you’ll give me your blessing to court Kacchan. I—I love him a lot, and I’m really lucky to have him in my life. It would be an honor to be his partner and his—his husband, and love him for the rest of my life.”

His voice faltered. Emotion swelled in Katsuki’s chest, a flood rushing through him at the prospect of spending his life with the boy in front of him, stuttering and stammering out a nervous proposal with hopeful, shining eyes.

Mitsuki leaned against the sofa, a smile twitching at her lips. “You’re really gonna put up with my idiot son yelling at you for the rest of your life?” 

“Oi, you trying to drive him away?” Katsuki hissed, though nothing short of a landslide would deter Izuku, and probably not even that.

Izuku tried not to laugh, quickly covering his mouth. “I’m looking forward to it.”

Her smile widened. “Well, you have our blessing, of course. Please take care of him.”

“Thank you,” he responded with another quick bow, his curls flopping into his face. “I—I know what I said wasn’t very fancy, but I really meant it. I promise I’ll do my best to take care of Kacchan.” 

“I don’t need to be taken care of,” Katsuki protested, though he couldn’t muster any malice. Their families had accepted. Izuku was going to be his husband. 

His heart fluttered as Masaru shot Izuku a fond look before turning back to Inko to begin a casual conversation. He couldn’t stop stealing glances at Izuku, who was gazing right back at him, bubbling with pure happiness. This cute nerd.

Noticing their stares, Mitsuki directed a raised eyebrow at Inko. “Inko, should we let them excuse themselves while we chat?”

“Oh, uh—” She entwined her fingers, fidgeting. “Now that they’re courting, maybe it wouldn’t be proper if—I mean, they’re still young, so…”

It would have been amusing if horror didn’t rush through him at the realization that he and Izuku probably wouldn’t be left alone together until they were married.

Arriving at the same realization, Izuku’s expression shifted to dismay. “What? But Kacchan’s my best friend.”

“You have other friends,” Inko reminded him. At the sight of his disappointment, all wide eyes and quivering lips, she sighed. “Fine. But, um, don’t… I mean…”

“Leave the door open,” Masaru interjected. She shot him a grateful look. “We’ll come check on you.”

Thrilled, Izuku jumped up, almost knocking over his mug with a series of hasty apologies, and Katsuki chased after him, ignoring the amused titters of their parents. 

Once they arrived at the room, Izuku pounced, hugging him so tightly that Katsuki’s ribs could have snapped. All the same, he hugged Izuku back, burying his face in his sweet-smelling hair and inhaling the scent of honeyed mint, residue from the magic he must have used this morning. The smell was comforting, making him ache to cuddle closer and bury himself in Izuku’s warmth.

“Kacchan,” he mumbled into Katsuki’s hair, his voice thick. “I’m so happy.” 

He brushed the nose against the shell of Izuku’s ear. “Almost thought you weren’t gonna propose at all.”

“I was just nervous. I can’t believe this is really happening.”

Katsuki slid his arms away from Izuku’s waist to wrap them around his neck instead, clutching him closer. Izuku was warm and sturdy, fitting perfectly against him like they were destined to hold each other. He couldn’t remember a time without the familiar swell of emotion Izuku always awakened in him; it was intrinsic, built deep into his bones, nestled in his ribcage. 

There had never been a conscious moment where he realized it ran beyond friendship, nor a doubt that Izuku might not feel the same. Years of fighting and misunderstandings had morphed to unconditional trust, but Katsuki had never doubted that he was irrevocably in love with Izuku for a single minute.

“Stupid,” Katsuki mumbled, burrowing his face into Izuku’s hair to breathe his familiar, sweaty scent. “It was always gonna happen.”

He let out a huff of laughter. “You could have told me.” 

“Shut up. It worked out fine.” He pinched the nape of Izuku’s neck. “Now get off before your mom catches us and calls me a whore.”

“Kacchan! She wouldn’t.”

“Yeah, yeah. I’m not risking it.”

He shifted, easing away with a pout. Then he brightened, raising his fists. “At least we get to do all the cool courting stuff now. I have some information in my notebooks on the different stuff we have to do—and afterwards, we’ll get to spend all our time together.”

“We already spend all our time together.”

“Yeah, but it’ll be even better,” he said earnestly. “We’ll live together, and sleep together, and, uh…” His cheeks flushed. “You get it. It’ll be super cool.”

He wanted to make fun of Izuku for being such a nerd, but all that came out was, “Hell yeah, it will.”

✵

Thick fingers curved around bone, seeking grooves in the smooth surface. Dissatisfied, Izuku dropped it to the ground and continued treading through the mud, deeper into the forest.

The first time he carved a knife had been when he was a child, curious eyes catching trickling sawdust off the sharp edge of a workbench, tracking deft hands that extracted a narrow shape from thick stone. Yagi would later become his mentor, helping him train his magic, but before all that, it had been as simple as him offering his blade to Izuku so he could try crafting a knife as well.

He’d started with wood, thin splinters piercing skin, rubbed raw with blisters, harsh on the thumb pushing at the back of the blade. Hunched too low, he’d breathed and coughed wood shavings until desperate sputters of water washed them down. He improved over the years, practicing until wonky edges turned to straight, jagged blades, sharp as razors. 

The distinct flow of water reached his ears, and he turned his attention from the rocks patterned over grass until he spotted blue through the trees.

He and Katsuki used to play in this river all the time, pretending to be adventurers. He’d followed Katsuki across the quivering bridge, shaking like a leaf in the wind under the footsteps of four excited children, chasing after a leader who knew everything.

Izuku knelt by the riverside, cool mud soaking the hems of his pants, to inspect a flat pebble. It was a pale, tinted blue, like veins running under skin. After a moment’s thought, he slipped it into his pocket and stood, trekking along the riverside.

A glint caught his eye, and he knelt to find a chunk of quartz. The translucent stone shimmered in the sunlight, iridescent, reflecting glittering auras of color. It wouldn’t be durable, but if he infused the blade with magic, it wouldn’t shatter so easily. 

Regardless, it would make a pretty gift. He would have a lifetime to give Katsuki practical gifts, so this could be purely indulgent.

Once he returned home, it was a familiar process to chisel a blade from the quartz. He let his mind wander, drifting towards scarlet eyes and hands he longed to hold. How did he manage to win the heart of someone like Katsuki? Strong, clever, funny, more beautiful than any of the natural wonders in the world. 

It took longer than he had anticipated to finish the knife, but the end result was worth it. 

When the milky blade caught the light, it sparkled rainbow. A faint aroma of mint rose from the sharp edge, where he had pushed his magic into the stone to fortify it, releasing small pops of green sparks. The residue would fade by the time he saw Katsuki again, leaving the knife clean.

As an afterthought, he crafted a box to store it, made of cedar wood and lined with woven cloth. He set the knife inside, then shut the lid, feeling a twinge of pride. 

Dimly, he wondered if he should have made a sheath, too, but decided the knife would be sufficient. It wasn’t a combat weapon, anyway, so Katsuki would most likely keep it in a drawer.

He grabbed a sheet of paper, then sat down with a quill, dipping the nib in a pot of ink.

Dear Kacchan, 

Please meet me at midnight at the southern beach cove, I want to give you something!

Love, Izuku

For good measure, he scrawled a few hearts over the note, then stepped into his boots and bounded out of the genkan, heading down the path towards the Bakugous’ residence. Katsuki’s room was near the back of the house, hidden in the shade of a drooping tree. 

His window was left cracked open to allow a breeze into the room, so Izuku placed the note on the windowsill, then grabbed a pebble from the ground and set it onto the paper, small enough that no one would notice except for Katsuki. 

As midnight drew nearer, anticipation thrummed in his veins like a static charge. Once the clock neared the hour, he snuck out of his room and jogged towards the beach, too excited to stop himself from breaking out into a run.

The coast was calm and silent, dark waves lapping at a shore that shone pale under the moonlight. A sheen of silver glittered off the ocean, sparkling as a tide crept up the damp sands. Wispy clouds drifted across the sky, veiling the stars with patches of grey.

Izuku treaded through the wet sand, his sandals sinking with every step, until he reached the cove.

“Izuku.”

He jolted, whipping around. Katsuki was sitting on a broad rock beside him, eyebrows raised in an arch. “I’m not late, am I? My clock said there’s twenty minutes until midnight.” 

“You’re early,” he agreed. “I figured you’d be, so here I am.”

Izuku relaxed, letting himself appreciate the sight before him. Blond hair caught the moonlight, features softer under the pale glow. His eyes flared scarlet against the colorless surroundings, so gorgeous that Izuku could scarcely believe he was real. 

Katsuki tilted his head to the side, lips curved in a cocky grin. “What? You gonna stare all night?” 

“Sorry,” he said, not sorry at all. 

Tearing his gaze away from Katsuki, he held out the box, wrapped in silk furoshiki with small, decorative birds embroidered onto the fabric. 

Curious, Katsuki took the present, peeling the cloth away to reveal the carved box. With an uncertain glance at Izuku, he pulled the lid off. 

When he saw the knife, a slow smile spread over his face. He lifted it up to the moonlight, watching it sparkle like ice in the pale glow. The handle, decorated with ornate, snakeskin carvings, fit perfectly in his hand. 

Slowly, he stroked the smooth surface of the blade. “Did you make this yourself?” 

“I did. I know it’s not very strong, so if you want something more useful, I can—”

“Shut up. It’s great.” Katsuki ran his fingertip along the blade, lightly enough that it wouldn’t pierce his skin, then set it back into the box. He smiled, small and genuine. “Thank you.”

Izuku would trek to the ends of the earth through hail and snow to see that smile again. “I’m glad you like it.”

He drew back, then fumbled around the surface of the rock until his hand closed on a wrapped package Izuku hadn’t noticed in the shadows. “I got something for you, too.”

“You did?” 

“I’m not an idiot. I know how this shit’s done.”

Izuku took the cloth from him and unwrapped it to find an obsidian knife. The blade glittered in the darkness, dark as squid ink, sharp and flawless. The hilt was inlaid with red jade and crystals that imitated rubies but released puffs of tiny, red sparks, a telltale sign of condensed fire magic, and the insignia of a dragon was singed into the solid handle.

“Thanks, Kacchan,” he said, awed. “It’s really beautiful.”

“Of course it is,” Katsuki said proudly. “It’s sharp, too. And pretty durable.”

“You thought of everything.”

“Obviously. I don’t half-ass anything.” He jerked his head sideways. “Sit down.”

He almost tripped over the bundle of furoshiki on the ground in his haste to sit beside Katsuki, kicking off his sandals. The sand was cool against his heels, a slow breeze sweeping around them, the rocky walls of the cove shielding them from the worst of it.

A touch brushed against his hand. 

Biting back a smile, Izuku placed his hand over Katsuki’s and entwined their fingers. Gently, he rubbed Katsuki’s knuckles with his thumb, enjoying the warm skin under his palm.

He looked up, and his breath caught in his throat. Katsuki was watching him, so beautiful that it almost hurt to look at him. Reaching up with his free hand, Izuku cupped his soft, round cheek, pressing their foreheads together, breathing slowly.

The air between them was gravity, about to collapse.  

Katsuki leaned closer and cradled the back of Izuku’s neck, pushing his fingertips under the tangled strands of green hair. “You’re so damn sappy.”

He smiled. “You agreed to marry me.”

“For some insane reason,” he agreed, but a smile tugged at the corner of his lips, too. “I’m going home. It’s late.”

“I wish we could sleep together, Kacchan.”

“Pervert.”

“You know that’s not what I meant!” 

Katsuki rolled his eyes and drew back, reaching for the box with the quartz knife before standing up. “Don’t be so impatient. If you think I’ll marry you without the biggest wedding this village has ever seen, you’re a dumbass.”

Affection swelled in his chest. “Sounds perfect to me.”

✵

The room was warm and humid, a hearty flame crackling in the fireplace. The furniture in Inko’s home was more worn than his own, comfortable fabrics stretched thin over frames of polished wood. Earth magic had probably been used to soothe the wood, file down the splinters until it was smooth and unblemished.

Katsuki sat on the floor, legs stretched under the kotatsu, warmth spreading through his skin and sinking into his muscles. Izuku was beside him, his thigh pressed against Katsuki’s, joined from hip to shoulder. 

“What did your parents pack?” he asked in a low voice, shooting a glance at their parents, who were chatting without paying them any heed.

Katsuki shrugged. “The usual stuff, I guess. Some underwear, body creams, towels.” 

“Mine’s about the same. I think my mom knit a blanket for you, or maybe it’s one of those wraps you can use in the house when it’s cold. She doesn’t want you to overuse your magic trying to keep yourself warm in the winter.”

At least this stage of courtship involved presents, and not the kind they had to prepare themselves. Dinner had been delicious, the table loaded with fish, meat, and fluffy rice, and they retreated to the seating area afterwards to unwind with cups of hot tea.

Izuku poked Katsuki’s ankle with his socked toe. “I wanted to talk to you about something. My family has an old cabin. The area’s pretty, and there’s a river nearby. My mom’s been using it as a storage unit, but it’s big enough for a bedroom and one or two other rooms. If you want, we could move there.”

He leaned closer, surprised. “Really?”

“She said it was always supposed to be mine, and it’s filled with my old stuff, anyway. I can clear it out, and… it’ll be ours.”

He liked how it sounded; ‘ours’, like their lives were already linked. “Sounds good.”

“Great! I’ll prepare it, then.”

“Don’t decorate. I ain’t having you messing up our house with your terrible taste.”

He pouted. “Can I make some changes? It’s pretty empty right now, so I'll put in a fireplace, and a kotatsu, too. Obviously, we need a bed, and some chairs—”

“Okay, I get it.” He dragged his toe up the length of Izuku’s muscled calf under the table, then nudged his foot underneath the warm weight of his leg. “Do what you want.”

“But you said—”

“Get the house ready, and I’ll fix anything you mess up.”

“Deal,” he said with a bright smile. “But I promise I’ll make it perfect for you.”

Katsuki crossed his arms. “You think you can do it better than I can?” 

“That’s not what I—”

“I’m much better at decorating than you! Forget what I said! We’re decorating together.”

Izuku perked up, unfailingly excited. “Sure! I’m looking forward to it.” 

It wasn’t long before their parents called them over so they could exchange the baskets. It was more casual than the official courtship request had been, Katsuki sitting on the ground with his knee pulled up to his chest, leaning against the sofa with Izuku nestled beside him, both of them staring at their parents expectantly. 

Mitsuki was the first to set the basket, decorated with strings of red and orange, on the table. Inko placed the basket she had brought beside it, green ribbons woven around the handle.

“This is yours,” Mitsuki said, waving a hand in Izuku’s direction. “If you two want to unpack them now, you can.”

Katsuki barely heard her, reaching for the basket Inko had given him and lifting the woven blanket set on top. Thick, heavy fabric, perfect for cold nights and cuddling up for warmth on the sofa. A few sets of utensils were placed along the bottom, along with a pair of pajamas, glass bottles filled with colorful liquids, and some small boxes containing herbs and spices.

“Thank you,” Katsuki said, looking over at Inko, who smiled and nodded in response. 

Izuku shuffled onto his knees and inched closer so he could peer into his own basket. It contained a matching blanket, woven in blazing scarlet and orange, as well as jewelry, ornate ceramic bowls, and a tall bottle of fragrant chili oil. There was perfume, too, and traditional medicinal concoctions. 

With a surprised, pleased look, Izuku pulled out a thin stack of notebooks. 

“Katsuki made us put those in,” Mitsuki interjected, because she was incapable of letting a single day slide without embarrassing her son. 

He didn’t have a chance to respond before Izuku surged forward to give him a quick, awkward hug, unsure of where to put his hands with their parents around. Before Katsuki could do something dumb like hug him back, Izuku jerked away like a puppet on a string and gave him a toothy smile, sheepish and so, so human. Katsuki wanted to marry his stupid ass right now.

He whipped around to his mother, who looked triumphant. “When’s the wedding?” 

Mitsuki raised an eyebrow. “So, you’re definitely getting married, then?” 

“What else is a courtship for, hag?” 

“A lot of people nowadays use it to get to know each other.” 

“We’ve known each other for too long already. There’s no point in dating.” 

A laugh burst from Inko, but when Katsuki glanced over at her, she bit her lip. “Sorry. I just remembered this time when you were kids and Izuku said he wanted to marry you. I thought he was mixing up friendship with romance, so I said he couldn’t marry you, and he started crying.”

“Mom,” Izuku whined, mortified.

“What? You were a kid,” she protested. “In retrospect, I guess you really were serious.” 

“Of course he was,” Katsuki announced. “My old hag should have prepared wedding gifts years ago. I deserve—Izuku and I deserve the best.”

Izuku beamed at him, then turned his attention back to the baskets, excitedly rummaging through the gifts while muttering under his breath about where they could place them in the new house. 

He was going to be insufferable when it came to decorating their home. Katsuki couldn’t wait.

✵

“These are your clothes, loser? They’re hideous!” 

“Kacchan!"

The sun slanted through the open window, along with a refreshing breeze that rustled the sheets strewn across the wooden desk. Two glasses of freshly squeezed orange juice sat on the desk, one half-drunken while the other was almost untouched.

Izuku was sitting cross-legged on his bed, looking over at Katsuki with a petulant pout, who was rummaging in the closet, tossing articles of clothing aside onto the littered floor. Though he had already worn Izuku’s clothes the night of the fire festival, they would have to exchange some more of their clothing to solidify the symbolic gesture.

Katsuki turned to him with a glare, holding up a shirt that had Casual T-shirt written across the front. Izuku had painstakingly dyed it with the dipped end of a feather. “Seriously? You still have this thing?” 

“It’s funny,” he protested. “And practical.”

“It’s stupid.”

“Don’t take it, then! It’s my favorite.”

Katsuki grinned. “On second thought, maybe I will take this one.”

“Kacchan! That’s not fair. You won’t even wear it.”

“So?” He held the shirt up against his chest. “See? It’d fit.”

Izuku tried his best to look annoyed, though he was pretty sure he wasn’t anywhere close to succeeding. “Put it on, then.” 

Katsuki raised an eyebrow. “Weren’t you just saying you don’t want me to take it?” 

“I want to see you wearing it,” he decided. 

He gave a half-hearted scoff, but tugged his shirt off, revealing the soft tones of muscle across his body before he pulled Izuku’s shirt on. A flutter wrung Izuku’s heart at the sight of Katsuki in his worn favorite shirt, pale teal standing stark against his smooth skin. 

He held his arms out, looking at Izuku expectantly. 

“Looks great,” Izuku said with a soft smile. “You can keep it, if you want.” 

He snorted. “I was just kidding. As if I’d want your dorky shirt.” 

They continued searching through the wardrobe until Katsuki managed to procure an armful of clothing in earthen tones. He packed them into a large cloth bag while Izuku sipped his orange juice, savoring the sweet, fresh flavor on his tongue. 

He couldn’t wait to see Katsuki wearing his clothes every day.

When they headed over to the Bakugous’ house, Katsuki herded Izuku straight to his room. Izuku almost mourned the chance to see the adorable blush that would grace Katsuki’s face if they ran into his parents and they said anything embarrassing, but he was too busy making a beeline for the closet.

Most of Katsuki’s clothes were dyed in rich hues of red, from subdued maroon to scarlet. Izuku chose a thin cotton sweater that wasn’t too colorful, along with a pair of matching pants. He paused, scrutinizing the selection, then reached for a maroon tunic.

“You’re picking the dullest ones,” Katsuki protested, eyebrows furrowed. “Go for something brighter.”

“They’re too bright. Don’t you have anything green?”

“We don’t wear green, dumbass. Do you wanna look even more like a head of broccoli than you already do?”

He pouted. “I don’t look like broccoli.”

“Yeah, you do.” Katsuki pointed at a form-fitting pair of black leather pants. “Put those on.”

“I don’t think so,” he said, a hot flush creeping up his neck. “They look really tight, and you know I’m used to looser stuff so I don’t think it would look good on me. Besides, if other people saw, they might—”

“Shut up and put them on. No one’s here but me, and I’ve already seen you naked.”

“D-don’t say it like that!”

All the same, he pulled down his pants. The material was snug and cut close around his hips, emphasizing his stocky muscles as he worked to pull them up his thighs. He looked back up to find Katsuki staring unabashedly at his crotch. 

“Kacchan!”

“What?” he said plainly. “You stare at me all the time. Do you really think I didn’t see you staring like a pervert when I had my shirt off at your house?”

“That’s—I didn’t—” He cleared his throat. “I was just trying to figure out whether you’ve been working out more.”

“Don’t flatter me, dumbass, I already agreed to marry you.” He jerked his head. “Get those pants off and put on your usual potato sack before I break your dumb earth mage abstinence traditions.”

Izuku stifled a laugh as he wriggled out of the pants. After another hour of bickering, he managed to accumulate enough clothes to fill the cloth sack he brought along. They all smelled vaguely of Katsuki; a hearty fireplace, crackling flame, the first explosion of warmth after a trek through a cold forest. Izuku made a mental note to destroy the perfume his mother had gifted Katsuki.

“You want something to drink?” Katsuki offered. “We got, like, fifty types of juice since the hag went to the farmer’s market yesterday.”

“Do you have watermelon?”

“I guess.”

“Kiwi?” 

“What? No.”

“Guava?” 

“Guavas don’t grow in this region.”

He was enjoying this. “Dragonfruit?” 

Katsuki squinted. “You want juice or not?” 

“Sure,” he said, relenting with a laugh. “I’ll have whatever you’re having.”

In the kitchen, Izuku sat down at the table while Katsuki extracted a glass bottle filled with a watery pink liquid from the refrigerator. He took two glasses out of the cabinet—one an ordinary cylinder, the other decorated with a dragon—and poured the strawberry juice into them, then set the dragon glass in front of Izuku. 

A rustle came from the doorway, and Izuku turned around just in time to catch a flash of red from a flowing skirt before Mitsuki appeared in the doorway. “Hey. Did you find anything good in my dumbass son’s wardrobe?” 

“All my clothes are great,” Katsuki said indignantly. “Izuku found lots of stuff.” 

She grinned, leaning against the doorway with her ankles crossed. “I bet they’re pretty uncomfortable compared to yours, huh?” 

Izuku gave a sheepish smile. “Yeah, kind of. A lot more… constricting.”

“Trust me, Katsuki’s clothes are baggier than the standard for his age.” She yawned, tucking her short hair behind her ears. “Anyway, I have some errands to run, so you boys enjoy yourselves—but not too much.”

Katsuki looked mortified. “Get out, hag!”

With a cackle, she marched off, leaving the kitchen in peaceful silence punctuated by Katsuki’s irritated mumbling. It was entertaining to watch them clash, deers butting twin antlers. 

“What did she mean by enjoying ourselves too much?” Izuku asked innocently, taking a sly sip of his juice.

Katsuki reddened. “Shut up and drink your juice.”

✵

A grove of trees overlooked the lake, lush and verdant. When a crisp, fresh breeze blew, it rustled the swaying leaves, shook the branches where birds perched to find shade in the sunny afternoon. It was near the middle of the village, central enough that as Katsuki walked along the winding pebbled path leading through the garden, the people working in the distance were still visible, plumes of colorful smoke spiraling in the air.

His gaze landed on a patch of untouched grass off the trail. “What about that spot?” 

Izuku appraised it, his eyebrows furrowing. He was carrying a wicker picnic basket, checkered cloth poking out from the edges under the lid. “It’s too close to that apple tree—it won’t get enough sunlight to grow.”

He jerked his head towards another spot. “What about there?” 

“The roots of that oak are going to spread there in a year or two. It might hurt our sapling.”

Katsuki scowled, crossing his arms petulantly. “Then you pick a spot, dickhead.”

According to Izuku, he received a seed on his eighteenth birthday with the instruction to raise it so he could one day plant it in this garden with his chosen partner. Traditionally, his family passed down cedar seeds because they grew tall and lived for hundreds of years, making them perfect to represent everlasting love.

Katsuki didn’t believe in any of that sappy shit, but he liked the idea of something that would stay long after they were gone, a sign that they were here, that they walked through this garden with their hands tentatively brushing, stealing glances at each other.

“There,” Izuku said abruptly, pointing at a wide area where the grass was soft and swaying. “It has plenty of space for our tree to grow.” 

He wanted to protest just to get back at Izuku, but the place really was perfect. “Not bad, nerd.”

“Great.” Izuku set the basket on the ground and opened the lid, revealing a sapling nestled inside a small pot, leaves fragile and fuzzy. “I didn’t use magic on it, but it’s grown a few centimeters since my birthday anyway.”

He raised an eyebrow. “What happens if you don’t find a partner soon after your eighteenth?” 

“We have a special spell to keep the seed in a type of stasis. It doesn’t hurt the seed, just makes sure that it won’t grow before the caster wants it to. Of course, some families don’t give the seed on their kid’s eighteen birthday, but that’s how mine has always done it.”

“Didn’t ask for a lecture.”

Izuku looked affronted. “You did ask.”

Katsuki bit back a grin. “Whatever. So, are we digging this hole or what?” 

It was about then that he realized neither of them had bought shovels. 

With a sigh, he knelt down and took the plunge, digging his fingers into the grassy soil and pulling out damp clumps. Izuku knelt beside him to help, their hands occasionally bumping as they dug out a ditch. Katsuki wanted to grab his hand, but he pushed down the embarrassing urge until they were standing in front of a suitably sized hole.

“That looks good,” Izuku decided. “What do you think?” 

“Not bad.” He peered at the ditch, then glanced over at the sapling. 

He had witnessed this ceremony once before, but he couldn’t remember much beyond the fact that the couple had lowered it into the ground together. That day, there had been a lot of visitors invited to witness the event, but Izuku suggested they keep theirs private and it definitely suited Katsuki more than having an army of extras disturbing their rare time alone with each other.

“Let’s get started,” Izuku said, crouching down to ease the sapling out of the pot, making sure not to disturb the roots. 

A lot of earth mages tended to be rough with plants—Kirishima had assured him their roots were hardy enough that they wouldn’t be easily damaged—but Izuku treated them delicately, as if he were caressing a beloved pet. When he was a child, he had been the same, always crawling around the mud to inspect weeds or fire sparks of magic at camellias to make them flourish. Katsuki used to tease him, even though it made his heart do weird flips.

Once the sapling was freed from the pot, Izuku straightened up and held it out. Katsuki slotted his hands under the base of the plant, nudging against Izuku’s in a way that sent a pleasant tingle through his fingertips. Izuku looked so happy that it made Katsuki want to kiss him right here in front of all the other content couples strolling through this grove.

“Ready?” Izuku asked, voice barely containing his enthusiasm.

His defenses obliterated, Katsuki couldn’t help but smile. “Yeah. Let’s do it.”

Together, they knelt down and lowered the sapling into the hole they dug out. Once it was settled, they pushed in the dirt from the mounds around the edges until the earth had flattened out with the plant in place. It looked cute, nestled in the ground amongst blades of healthy grass with its small leaves poking into the air.

Izuku, meanwhile, was already tearing up. “It’s perfect. I love it.” 

He bit back another smile. If Izuku was this emotional over a tree, he could only imagine how he would react if they had kids someday. The thought sent a wave of warmth through him. “Of course it’s perfect. It’s ours.”

Izuku took a step closer and Katsuki met him halfway, looping his arms around his neck and tilting his head. The kiss was over far too soon, but the phantom warmth of Izuku’s mouth against his lingered as they turned to appraise their sapling. 

A tentative touch met his hand, and he took the signal to grab Izuku’s hand, entwining their fingers.

Izuku smiled softly. “This means a lot to me. Thank you for going along with it.”

“Don’t thank me for that, idiot.” He squeezed Izuku’s hand. “I’m not just marrying you. Your family is mine and so are your traditions.”

“Kacchan.” He gave a watery sniff. “I’m excited to do yours, too.”

He snorted. “Good luck. It’s a lot more intense than planting a tree.”

✵

“You’re gonna burn me?” 

“Just a light burn.”

Izuku waved his hand wildly in the direction of Katsuki’s unmarred hand. “If it’s supposed to leave a permanent mark, it can’t be that light.”

“You have lots of scars,” he pointed out, leveling an accusatory stare at Izuku’s arms, covered in scars from the elbow up, a pale, twisting web that curled around his biceps.  “How much more could it hurt? Pass me those lemons.”

Izuku handed him the bowl of lemons, vibrant yellow under the sunshine. Even if it would have been easier to make lemonade in the kitchen, the sun was shining and the weather was nice, so Mitsuki had herded them out to the garden, laying a tablecloth over the outdoor table.

As Katsuki started chopping the lemons, Izuku gulped, looking back at his hand. “It just sounds so violent.” 

It wasn’t as if this was a new concept. 

Izuku had seen the marks on Mitsuki and Masaru’s ring fingers, watched as Enji Todoroki took a shaky, determined hand in his and conjured a shimmering coil of fire that wrapped around Rei’s fourth finger and seared a permanent band into her skin. 

Izuku had often dreamt of wearing the mark of Katsuki’s magic, but somehow he had never thought through the branding part.

“Wouldn’t it hurt?” he said doubtfully. 

Katsuki shrugged. “I don’t know. My old man said it’s a gentler kind of magic.” 

“Oh.”

“And it’s not like everyone would keep doing it if it hurt that bad.” He paused, setting down the knife. “Probably. If you don’t wanna do it, though, that’s—”

“I’ll do it,” he said hurriedly.

“No.”

“It’s okay, I don’t mind.”

Katsuki’s voice was firmer now. “No. I don’t wanna do it.”

His eyebrows furrowed into a frown. “Why?” 

“I’ve set you on fire, burnt your hair, nearly blown you up when we were working on our fire magic together. I don’t wanna do that shit again.”

Izuku softened. “Kacchan… you know we’ve moved past that.”

He was determinedly refusing to look at Izuku, funneling all his concentration into squeezing the lemons with a neon green citrus juicer. The sheer aggression with which he squeezed the life out of the lemons sent juice spurting into his eyes, making him jerk back with a low, pained noise that choked in his throat.

Izuku grabbed the juicer, pulling it to his side of the table, then took the half-juiced lemon from Katsuki’s hand, bending down to press a soft kiss to his knuckles as he did. He adored how it made a soft blush tint Katsuki’s cheekbones. “I don’t hold that against you. I wish you’d stop beating yourself up over it.”

“I can’t help it,” he muttered. “I was a bitch.”

“Hey!” He squeezed some lemon juice onto Katsuki’s hand, making him jerk in surprise. “Don’t talk like that about my future husband.”

Katsuki retaliated by picking up another lemon and squeezing it onto Izuku, who let out a mock gasp of offense—then they were hurling lemon shells at each other, dissolving into giggles and ducking to hide from the attacks. 

Izuku pushed himself off the chair and fell to his knees, hiding beneath the table and crawling forward as quickly as he could so he could plaster a wet lemon to Katsuki’s thigh, pulling a bird-like screech from him. The position left him open for another attack; Katsuki squeezed more juice onto the crown of his head.

Instinctively, Izuku flung a whole lemon at Katsuki. It bounced off his forehead with a surprisingly hard thunk. 

He was about to apologize, but it was too late. Katsuki grabbed the juicer and poured the liquid of two lemons all over his hair, making Izuku let out a squawk as sun-warmed lemon juice dripped through his hair and over his face.

“Ha! Got y—” 

His gloat cut off into a surprised noise as Izuku yanked Katsuki off the chair, pulling him down into the grass. 

They wrestled for control, rolling around and shoving at each other in the dirt until Izuku was laid out flat on his back with Katsuki perched on his lap, bearing all his weight down to press him into the earth.

Breathless, he gazed up at Katsuki, his shining face silhouetted by a halo of sunshine. 

“I win,” Katsuki said, grinning, pressing Izuku’s wrists to the ground. “What do you have to say for yourself?”

“You’re beautiful.” 

He laughed, pitched high and warm in his chest, and dipped, pressing his mouth to the peak of Izuku’s freckled cheekbone. “You got me all sticky.”

“I can make it worse.” Izuku shot out a hand, grabbing a lemon shell discarded just by the foot of the table, and pushed himself up, knocking Katsuki to the floor. 

It had just enough juice left to leave wet, glimmering smears over Katsuki’s neck and collarbones as he swiped it over his skin, making Katsuki let out a bark of laughter and buck his hips up, trying to push him off. 

Before he could succeed, Izuku leaned down to lick the mix of lemon juice, sweat, and dirt off Katsuki’s skin. It was way too sour without the sugar they left on the table, but it was still warm, dripping honey all over his tongue, sweet and sticky, marking glistening trails over the slender curve of Katsuki’s neck.

Something wet pressed against his back under his shirt, and he yelped, jolting up to see Katsuki grinning triumphantly, fist clenched around half a lemon. He dragged it up Izuku’s back, cool and wet up his sweat-sticky skin. 

“Like that?” he teased, knees tightening by Izuku’s hips.

Izuku dropped the lemon and reached for Katsuki’s thigh, hiking it up around his waist, returning the grin. “I like you.”

His mouth tasted like lemons, tangy, tongue pressing wet against Izuku’s own, both their hands wet with a sticky paste of juice and mud. He huffed a moan into Katsuki’s mouth, his entire body shivering with the delicious feeling of Katsuki’s hands rubbing over his back, his ribs, his legs wrapped tight and greedy around Izuku’s hips.

A loud cough made them jolt apart, looking over in horror to where Mitsuki was standing with crossed arms, a shopping bag discarded by her feet.

“Now does that look like abstinence?” she said, eyebrows raised, lips curved up.

Izuku leapt off him so fast he almost sparked a friction burn all up his shins. 

Katsuki shot his mother a raging death glare. “We were just… fighting.”

“Uh-huh, yeah. Your father and I used to fight like that.”

“Mom!”

She shook her head, picking up her shopping bag. “Come inside and clean up.”

They would have shared a bath like they did when they were kids, washing up on stools by the bathtub and passing a bottle of shampoo back and forth, but Izuku didn’t trust himself around Katsuki. Clearly, their self-restraint was shakable. Once it was his turn, he didn’t let himself enjoy the warm water, scrubbing up as efficiently as possible before he ended up launching himself into a worse situation. He had to borrow one of Katsuki’s jinbei sets, padding downstairs in house slippers and a loose red shirt.

Katsuki was already sitting on the floor by the kotatsu, leafing through a book about architecture with two cups of lemonade beside him. He looked up when Izuku came into the room, and his features lifted like the sun emerging from behind a cloud. 

Izuku sat beside him, trying to muster a normal tone. “We never finished talking about the rings.”

“I meant it, Deku. I don’t wanna burn you.”

Mitsuki’s voice came from the kitchen. “You’re getting it all wrong, brat. It’s not like burning yourself on a stove. You have to put care into it.”

Katsuki looked unsure. “Really?” 

She walked into the living room, holding up her hand pointedly. The mark on her ring finger was an intricate web of diamonds, interspersed with swirls. “Didn’t hurt a bit.”

“Alright,” he said, shooting a glance at Izuku. “Then… do you wanna do it?”

Izuku beamed. “Of course I do. Should we make it a whole ceremony, or—”

“Nah. Just us.”

“You should do it somewhere meaningful,” Mitsuki interjected. 

“Stop meddling, hag! Leave us alone.”

“I saw what happens if I leave you alone! Inko would have a heart attack.”

A pang of worry struck Izuku. “Are you going to tell her? Because I—I promise nothing has happened since Kacchan and I started—and I didn’t mean to be hasty or disrespectful, we were just messing around and I couldn’t help—”

“Relax,” she said with a laugh. Izuku tried to, though it was hard since he’d basically told her he was uncontrollably attracted to her son. “Just watch yourselves if you don’t want anyone else to walk in on you.”

“We weren’t even doing anything,” Katsuki snapped, scowling at her. “Get out of here.”

Rolling her eyes, she retreated to the kitchen, leaving the two of them alone in the room.

“At least the lemonade turned out well,” Izuku commented, taking a sip. It was fresh and zesty, just as he liked it.

“Yeah, no thanks to us.” 

“We should have a bowl of lemons on the table in our home,” he said thoughtfully. “When we set it up. Lemons or mikans—maybe even yuzu, for our baths.”

“Lemon trees would look pretty good in the backyard,” Katsuki agreed. He flipped through the book he’d been reading until he reached a page where a bedroom had been drawn out in short, smooth strokes. “Was thinking something like this.”

Izuku shuffled forward, already getting excited. “That bed looks really nice.”

“Yeah, right? And this drawer, here—I could make that. And we could get some plants in there for your nerdy ass.”

They kept chatting about their home and making plans until the sun set beyond the windows.

✵

Under the cover of night, the beach was cast in silver, moonlight reflecting off the rolling waves. Katsuki walked ahead, his hands shoved deep into his pockets, and Izuku followed just behind, the rustle of sand underfoot mixing with the crashing sound of the waves. Quiet, except for the rhythmic crash of the waves and the occasional cry of a distant gull. 

It was hard to make out the exact spot where Izuku had taken the plunge Katsuki couldn’t bring himself to, but this was close enough. Katsuki knelt, gathering a handful of dried driftwood and piling it into a small circle while Izuku added twigs and dried leaves to the pile. Once a pile had accumulated, they turned to finding smooth stones, arranging them in a circle around the wood.

Once it was ready, Katsuki struck his fingers together, a spark of red flaring between them before catching on the wood. The fire crackled to life, casting golden light over the sand. 

Izuku laid out the picnic mat he’d brought, and they both sat down. Flames flickered across Izuku’s face, illuminating the soft curve of his jaw, his cheeks. 

Katsuki’s stomach twisted with something deep and warm. It would be so easy to lean over and kiss him. Hold his hand. Do ridiculously sappy things he would make fun of Izuku for. “What’re you looking at?”

His lips quirked into a smile. “Just you.”

“Tch.” Katsuki scowled, but he could feel his ears burning. He stared down at his hands. The firelight caught on the faint scars that criss-crossed his knuckles. “Figured you’d get all sentimental.”

“I’m allowed to be sentimental,” he protested. “We’re getting married in four days.”

Four more days of this parade, then Katsuki would finally be free.

It spurred him to push on with their plan. “Are you sure about this?” 

“The… the wedding?” 

“No, dumbass!” He gestured at Izuku’s hand. “This. You want me to mark you. For life.” 

“It’s not even a question,” Izuku assured him, moving closer, knee brushing against Katsuki’s. “I want this. I want you. Forever, Kacchan.”

He couldn’t help the smile that spread over his face. “Alright, then, nerd. Give me your hand.” 

Izuku obediently extended his hand, setting it on Katsuki’s knee. It sent shivers all down his legs, up the back of his spine. With a hard swallow, he lifted his hand, hovering it over Izuku’s ring finger.

He had never done this before—beyond practising on branches—but the instinct rose up from within him.

A delicate thread of gold spiraled out from his palm. It curled around Izuku’s finger, weaving its way into intricate patterns; a dragon’s tail, a flower unfurling. He held his breath, but it didn’t seem to be hurting Izuku, who was staring at it, enraptured.

As slowly as it flowed out, his magic faded, leaving behind a glowing orange pattern.

”Does it hurt?” 

Izuku shook his head. “It’s just like… standing a little too close to the fire. But not painful.”

A sigh eased the tension in his chest. “Alright. Good.”

“Now, it’s your turn.”

He blinked. “Huh?” 

With a smile, Izuku leaned closer, eyes glittering in the darkness. “I want to mark you, too, Kacchan. I want everyone to look at you and know you’re mine.”

“Oh. You… can do that?” 

“I can.” Gently, his fingers traced over Katsuki’s wrist. “If you want me to.”

He stumbled over the words in his hurry to get them out. He’d agree to anything Izuku said in that tone, but it wouldn’t take convincing, anyway, for him to crave Izuku’s mark on him. “Y-yeah. Do it.”

Jaw set with determination, Izuku placed his hand under Katsuki’s, palm-to-palm. A faint green glow rose between his fingers, spreading upwards to coil gently around Katsuki’s skin. A winding design of vines of leaves, forming a laurel crown around Katsuki’s ring finger.

Katsuki was frozen as the pattern etched itself onto him, intricate leaves overlapping. When the glow faded, the mark remained—a soft green band with delicate detailing, shimmering faintly in the moonlight. Katsuki stared at it, his chest tightening. It was subtle, intimate. Permanent.

“Looks good,” Izuku said softly, his voice breaking the spell of silence.  

Katsuki blinked, glancing up to meet his gaze. His own voice came out rough. “Yeah?” 

“Yeah. It suits you.”

He opened his mouth, but whatever half-formed response he had died on his tongue when Izuku’s hand slid up his wrist, his palm, thumb brushing over the new mark. Heat bloomed under his skin.  

“I’m yours,” Izuku said, quietly. 

He slowly turned his hand around, entwining their fingers, tight. “I’m yours, too.”

His cheeks flushed, but instead of replying, Izuku dipped forward, pressing a tender kiss to the inside of Katsuki’s wrist. Katsuki’s breath caught, sparks erupting all along his arm.

Before he could say anything, Izuku shifted, his lips brushing up along Katsuki’s forearm. Slow, lingering. The slightest brush of soft, dry lips over wanting skin. By the time Izuku reached his shoulder, Katsuki’s heart was about to pound out of his chest.  

“Izuku,” he rasped. Their eyes met, and Izuku closed the space between them, tilting his head to catch his mouth in a kiss.  

He gripped the back of Izuku’s neck, pulling him closer, and Izuku pushed forward, sending him tumbling backwards. 

His back hit the cool sand, and Izuku moved over him, hair spilling down around his face. Katsuki couldn’t stop himself from carding his fingers through the tangled waves, feeling the softness of them.

Izuku’s lips ghosted over his jaw, trailing down to his neck.  “You’re so warm.” 

“‘Course I am,” he muttered, though his voice cracked. “F-Fire, and all that.”

It got him a breathy laugh. When Izuku reached the hollow of Katsuki’s throat, he pressed an open-mouthed kiss against the spot. 

Katsuki let out a low sound, fingers tightening in Izuku’s hair. “Deku.”

He pulled back just enough to meet his eyes, his cheeks flushed, his breathing heavy. “Yeah?”  

Katsuki didn’t answer, instead tugging him back down into another kiss. Messier, all teeth and heat. Wandering hands slid under Katsuki’s shirt, skimming over the taut muscles of his stomach, stoking the deep, gnawing want building to an unbearable peak inside him. 

He arched up, pressing closer to Izuku. “We—shit, Izuku— we should stop.” 

His breath was hot against Katsuki’s ear. “Why?” 

Katsuki gripped Izuku’s shoulders, trying to summon the motivation to stop him. It was hard when hot, wet tongue was swiping over him, exploring the column of his throat. “The abstinence.”

“I don’t care.”

“We’re in public. ”

That got Izuku to relent, moving off him with a comically put-out expression. “Alright. Just—just a few days.” 

He swallowed, trying to calm his dizzying heart. “Just a few days.”

Izuku flashed him a smile, warm and shy, like he wasn’t just licking his way halfway to Katsuki’s tonsils and feeling him up on a public beach. 

Yeah. Katsuki wasn’t going to survive this.

✵

Though he had been trying for hours, Izuku couldn’t sleep. Every time he closed his eyes, images of his and Katsuki’s wedding day flooded his thoughts, and the excitement bubbled through him, rushing and surging. At this time tomorrow, he’d be going to sleep in a new bed and a new home, his husband wrapped up in his arms. They would be bound together, sharing their lives.

Izuku turned over again, pressing his pillow to his eyes with a frustrated noise. He’d gone to bed early so he would have as much energy as possible tomorrow—tomorrow!— but the hours were crawling by and there wasn’t an ounce of slumber in his body. 

A sharp rap on his window almost made him jump out of the bed, jolting upright. 

“Oi. It’s me.”

He relaxed, padding over to the window and wrenching it upwards. Katsuki was standing there in his sleepwear, hair tangled and mussed, standing up in all directions. “You scared me.”

“Good. Move.” 

Izuku quickly shuffled away from the window, allowing Katsuki space as he grabbed hold of the windowsill and hoisted himself inside with a soft grunt. He crumpled unceremoniously on the ground, then pushed himself back to his feet, rubbing the side of his head.

He straightened up, dusting himself down, and looked at Izuku. “Couldn’t sleep?” 

“No,” he confessed. “You?” 

“I’m here, aren’t I?” He bent down to take off his shoes and strolled over to the bed, clambering onto the mattress while Izuku watched him, dumbfounded. He pulled at the blanket, trying to straighten it out, then glanced over. “What are you waiting for?”

“Are you staying here?”

He stilled. “Do you not want me to?” 

“No—I mean, yes! Please stay.” 

“Alright, then. Get over here.”

He rushed over and bounded into the bed, wasting no time in snuggling up as close to Katsuki as he could. They ended up with Izuku on his back and Katsuki lying on his chest, cheek pressed into Izuku’s shoulder. He was so soft, smelled so good. Izuku couldn’t believe he got to keep him forever.

“Good night, Kacchan.”

“Mm.” He made a sleepy noise. “See you tomorrow.”

The morning passed in a blur. Katsuki had slipped away before Izuku woke up, and he mourned the loss of being able to see Katsuki, soft and content in the morning sunshine, all through breakfast, his shower, and the nerve-wracking process of getting dressed. 

It was comfortable, at least, even if the mere act of wearing attire for his wedding had his heart beating fast. A green kimono with a dark, inky haori, delicate chains of gold secured around his wrists and ankles.

As the finishing touch, a wreath sat on top of his head, woven from leaves, flowers, and branches he had gathered himself before giving them to Yagi, who crafted it for him. A gift from his mentor, imbued with his magic, his support. It gave Izuku comfort, steadied his nervous legs as he walked down to the shrine with his mother and Yagi.

The morning sun filtered through the sakura trees that lined the temple grounds, framing the ornate gates. Katsuki was already there, saying something to his parents with an uncharacteristically fond expression. 

A leaf crunched under Izuku’s shoe, and then scarlet eyes were on his.

Katsuki looked good in everything, but he was especially handsome in wedding attire. The haori draped over his shoulders was embroidered with a subtle pattern of starbursts, and crimson flowers were tucked into his hair, blossoming out from between each spiky strand. Ornate necklaces were draped around his neck, layered over each other, rubies and glistening opal, with a large pendant in the shape of a fire lily laying right over his heart.

Everything else faded; the guests approaching the gates behind them, the music playing in the distance. It was just him and Kacchan, expression soft, usual scowl replaced with something tender and open. 

“Kacchan,” he breathed. “You look amazing.”

Faint pink dusted his cheeks as he stepped forward. “You—you, too.”

Tears turned his vision blurry. He would never live it down if he cried before they even started the ceremony, but here he was, holding back the worst of it as he took Katsuki’s hand and stepped through the gates, all their friends and family following behind them. Their voices rose above the chirping of the birds in the trees, lively, a chattering hum of excitement. 

Once they reached the fountain, they paused in front of it. Streams of crystal-clear water cascaded down from the mouths of sculpted dragon heads, pooled into a basin that rippled with faint golden light. Grasping the wooden ladle, he washed his hands, then dipped it into the water to cleanse it before offering it to Katsuki.

As they walked up to the shrine, he grabbed Katsuki’s hand again, holding it like a lifeline. After all the moments leading up to this—the gifts they exchanged, words, the lavish barbecue party last night where all their loved ones had gathered in the central fire pit of the village to give them their best wishes and presents for their new house—this moment was strangely peaceful.

The life he’d lived without Kacchan wasn’t coming to an end with an explosion, a bang to close off a period he didn’t ever care to return to. It was just the slow shift of night to day, standing over a cliffside and watching the sun rise. Lying with Kacchan in his arms the first night they spent together and watching him breathe, knowing they’d be together forever.

Ahead, the golden accents of the shrine glinted in the sunlight, vermillion pillars vibrant against the blue sky. 

Katsuki was still looking ahead, but his grip on Izuku’s hand tightened, thumb brushing over the back of Izuku’s fingers. It sent a wave of warmth through Izuku, and he had to bite the inside of his cheek to keep from bursting into proper sobs.

They’d played here when they were kids. Running around in the shrine gardens while their parents prayed, peeking at the charms, staring at the trees to assess if they could climb them without being scolded.

“You know, people get married here,” Izuku had said, looking over at the path leading to the shrine. “I’ve seen it. They have a big, fancy progression, and they wear special clothes.”

“Sounds dumb,” Katsuki had dismissed. “Marriage is dumb, anyway.”

“Marriage is not dumb! Sometimes you really love someone and wanna do everything with them. Like us.” 

He’d blinked, then laughed. “Like I’d ever marry you, Deku.”

Izuku could tease him about that later.

For now, he just basked in the bliss of finally getting his wish while they stood in the shrine, waiting for the priest to finish the ritual prayers. Though he tried to keep his attention there, he kept glancing over at Katsuki, who was watching the priest with a focused scrunch to his forehead. Katsuki, who always claimed he wasn’t sentimental, who scoffed at tradition.

Izuku bit back a wobbly smile.

The priest poured sake into lacquered cups set out on a tray, and Izuku took the first sip from the smallest cup before passing it to Katsuki. The sweet ease with which Katsuki drank from the same cup sent a warm shiver down his spine, as if Katsuki had picked up tea that Izuku left unfinished in their living room and drank the rest of it. He passed it back, and Izuku finished it off. 

They repeated the process for the next two cups, then the tray was carried away.

A solid hand squeezed his shoulder, then Yagi handed him a box, pale wood carved in patterns depicting various leaves.

“Kacchan,” Izuku said, facing him, trying to keep the tremor out of his voice. “With—with our knives, I promised my devotion to you. That I would always protect you, and provide for you, and fight alongside you. Now…”

He extended the box, and Katsuki quickly took it from his shaking hands. With a glance up through his pale eyelashes, Katsuki opened the box, revealing a tiny seedling.

“With this, I promise to cherish you, take care of you, l–love you, and spend the rest of our lives growing together.” He gave a small laugh, waving at the seedling. “It’s a Venus Flytrap.”

Katsuki let out a loud snort, breaking out into a beautiful grin. Whenever he’d tagged along with Izuku to the greenhouse when they were kids, rambling about something or the other while Izuku wrestled with the soil, he’d always been fascinated by the Venus Flytraps. They’re badass, he used to say. Not like your nerdy plants, Izuku.

Gently, Katsuki lowered the gift onto the floor, then accepted the small box Masaru offered him. “I swore my devotion to you, too.” 

When he passed the box to Izuku, it was lighter than he’d expected. Carefully, he opened it to see a pair of vivid sea glass studs, shimmering where they caught the sun. 

“This is more a gift for me than you. But you like plants more than I do, so yours was also selfish, shitty nerd,” Katsuki said, making him laugh, thick and watery. “When we were just brats, you collected this piece of sea glass, and because I couldn’t find anything as well-formed, you gave it to me. I lost my temper and threw them away, but later, I came back.”

Izuku’s mouth fell ajar, tears building in his eyes, spilling over. “Kacchan.”

Katsuki drew a shaky breath, eyelashes misty. “You can put these on me. To—to show that I love you, and I chose you, and I’ll keep choosing you every day for the rest of our lives.” He paused, then added, a little gruffly, “Like a label.”

Surging forward, Izuku threw his arms around him, making sure not to drop the earrings as he squeezed Katsuki into a hug. With a laugh, Katsuki hugged him back. 

Compared to the formality of the ceremony, the reception was pure chaos. All music, dancing, their friends and family climbing up onto tables to give drunken toasts sharing embarrassing stories from their childhoods. Whether it was from the alcohol or the mortification of Mitsuki declaring that Katsuki had come home crying one day after all their friends teased Izuku about liking a girl, Katsuki’s cheeks had gone a pretty shade of pink, tips of his ears scarlet. It was unbearably endearing.

In between Kaminari’s barely intelligible toast and Uraraka’s announcement that she’d kick out anyone who didn’t dance for the next song, Izuku leaned over to whisper in Katsuki’s ear. “Are you having a good time?”

“Not bad,” he agreed, a glint in his eyes. “Though this night’s about to get worse if we actually have to dance now.”

“Come on, let’s go. We’ll only be at our wedding once.”

Rolling his eyes, Katsuki let Izuku drag him away from the table and looped his arms around Izuku’s shoulders, stepping in close. Though the song was upbeat, they fell into a slow dance, swaying in place. 

“I didn’t tell you one thing about the earrings.”

Izuku tilted his chin onto Katsuki’s shoulder, wrapping his arms around the small of his back, holding him close. “What?”

“You’re supposed to put them on me in bed.”

He jerked back, jaw dropping. “Really?” 

Katsuki grinned. “Yeah. It’s a consummation thing.”

“Wow. Fire mages are freaky.”

He let out a bark of laughter, pressing his forehead against Izuku’s collarbone. “It’s supposed to boost fertility, too, though it’s not like that applies here.”

“Well.” Izuku gave him a sly smile. “There’s no harm in trying.”

Another laugh, and Katsuki relaxed against him, shifting his head so his cheek was resting flat against Izuku’s shoulder. 

The next song started playing, one he hadn’t heard since— “Oh! I’ve been meaning to ask you. You never told me what your wish was last year. At the fire festival.”

“Well, it’s not the fire festival yet. I can’t tell you.”

"Kacchan! Don’t I get husband privileges?” 

He huffed, amused, glancing up at Izuku through the strands of messy hair that had fallen around his face. Some of the flowers had fallen out, but enough remained to bring out the color of his eyes. “Isn’t it obvious?”

"Tell me anyway," he coaxed, heart beating fast.

A pause, and he closed his eyes. “Wanted to tell you I love you.”

Emotion welled up in him. “Oh, Kacchan.”

“Well, you proposed to me, so you took my original resolution. When we were walking back to the festival, I realized I didn’t say it back to you when you told me you loved me, so…” He shrugged, but there was something shy in his face. “I hoped you knew, anyway.”

“I know,” he promised, pressing a kiss into Katsuki’s hair, enjoying the feeling of his new husband in his arms. “I love you, too. Always.” 

“You’re sure this place isn’t gonna collapse on us?” 

Izuku laughed, light and easy. “It’s sturdier than it looks, I promise. You’re gonna love it.”

Katsuki crossed his arms, trying to appear unimpressed, but the little details were already catching his eye—the window boxes bursting with fresh flowers, the faint smell of cedarwood that lingered in the air, and the way the soft light spilled out from the windows. “Tch. It’s small.”

“It’s cozy,” he countered. “Besides, it’s ours.”

He couldn’t argue with that. 

Before he could respond, Izuku bent down, wrapping strong arms around Katsuki’s waist and lifting him clean off the ground.

“Oi! What the hell are you doing?!”

“I’m carrying my husband over the threshold," he said cheerfully.

“I don’t need you to—” Katsuki cut himself off with a frustrated huff, his face flaming. “You’re such a damn nerd.”

“And you’re cute.” He adjusted his hold to keep Katsuki steady and nudged the cabin door open with his foot.

Though he’d been working on designing it for the last few weeks, it still stunned him to see how nice it looked when it was all put together. The walls were polished wood, and the furniture was simple but well-made, with cushions in colorful shades. A small kitchen was tucked into the corner, and a table sat by the window, already set with a pair of mismatched mugs and a vase of wildflowers.

“We did a good job.” 

Izuku beamed, setting him down in the middle of the living room. “We really did.”

Katsuki looked around again, his eyes lingering on the little touches that had obviously been Izuku’s doing—the framed photo of them from one of their hikes, the blankets from their gift baskets draped over the couch, the tiny potted succulents arranged neatly by the window.

He jerked his head towards the photo of them as children, both smiling toothily at the camera. “You’re such a sap.”

“Maybe,” Izuku said, leaning in close, his breath warm against Katsuki’s ear. “But you like it.”

Before Katsuki could fire back a reply, Izuku swept him up again, holding him bridal style, making him yelp. As embarrassing as it was, being held in those strong, freckled arms was doing things to Katsuki.

“Deku! Put me down, you idiot!”

“Not until I get you to the bedroom,” Izuku said petulantly, carrying him down the short hallway. “Let me indulge.”

“Idiot,” he shot back, though he couldn’t muster any bite. “You’ve done nothing but indulge.”

They’d done a good job of the bedroom, too. The king-sized bed was pushed against the far wall, piled high with pillows and a handmade quilt—he recognized the pattern as one Todoroki had been practising since he first got into quilt-making. Figures that the bastard wouldn’t be satisfied with the case of solid gold cutlery he’d given them at the reception. A single window overlooked the trees outside, with a view of the river, and a lamp in the corner of the room cast a warm glow. 

Izuku gently set Katsuki down on the edge of the bed, his hands lingering at Katsuki’s waist as he straightened. He looked down at him with that stupidly earnest expression Katsuki adored—had always adored, whether he’d admitted it to himself or not.

“Welcome home, Kacchan,” Izuku said softly, his voice full of warmth.

He just reached up, fisted his hands in Izuku’s haori, and pulled him down for a kiss. Izuku didn’t resist, leaning into him and smiling against his lips.

When they broke, Katsuki let his voice drop into a sultry rasp. “So, you gonna put those earrings on me or what?”

Afterwards, when they were curled together in the soft, warm glow of their bedroom, the first night of the rest of their lives, Izuku smiled and said, “I’m really happy, Kacchan.”

Warmth flooded him. He was so lucky. “So am I.”